Rites of Passage
by you-noia
Summary: Every kid dreams of having superpowers, yet for one teenager, her meta-human powers have been nothing but a reminder of something that ruined her whole life. Jessica Fairchild searches for a way to cope by stirring up trouble in Gotham. Of course, that means her bad choices catch the attention of the city's greatest heroes. Slow burn, older!Damian x OC.
1. Jessica

**Chapter 1: Jessica**

She'd always been on the run for as long as she could remember. Running from home, authority, shelters, friendships — she'd done it all. It wasn't always her choice, but it was one of the few things that had remained a constant in her life, whether she liked it or not.

Today, though, was the first time ever she was on the run from Gotham's famed dark knight, the one criminals hated, envied, or admired (sometimes all at the same time, depending on who you asked). It was kind of amusing because she never would have guessed she would fall under his radar the way that she did. Batman tracking down a 17-year-old girl with a short, flimsy rap sheet? It would've been confusing and downright laughable to anyone else.

If only the situation really was the way it looked, and there wasn't actually more to the story.

Yet, the masked hero was following her into the closed warehouse as she tried to quietly navigate her way through the dark. She found herself in a very large stock room with tall racks of shelving and groups of pallets and boxes everywhere. The cold, night air chilled her skin through the black clothing she wore, and what little light came from the street lamps outside filtered in through the windows. Large shipments of boxed product sat in haphazard mountains across the floor, providing decent cover as she crept into the shadows. The only sound echoing throughout the building was water dripping from a leak somewhere, the droplets pattering in a slow, steady rhythm.

Was it really all that surprising that Batman was after her? After all, she _was _a part of the small gang committing a string of criminal acts across Gotham... except what they did was far from petty theft and armed robbery. No, what they did was much more discreet with higher stakes and enough of a bother to attract the attention of the city's greatest hero.

"We don't have to make this difficult."

A low voice came from somewhere across from the building. His words echoed slightly thanks to the metal structures and items around them, making it harder to guess where exactly he was. Her heart skipped a beat with the nervousness building in her chest, but she remained still in her position between a pair of tall racks stocked with supplies and boxes. Glancing around at her surroundings, she carefully made her way toward the center of the floor, keeping herself low and hidden among the wrapped pallets. It was a miracle her wet shoes weren't squeaking or making obvious noises.

"We don't have to do it at all," she spoke, relieved to hear the lack of nerves in her voice, which bounced nicely off all the surfaces in the large room. She couldn't let him know she was actually... scared.

But had it been a mistake answering him?

It was silent for such a long moment that she wondered if he'd left. _Yeah, right_. Keeping her breathing even, she snuck over to the next pallet just as she caught a glimpse of something dark slipping into the corner where she'd been a minute ago.

_Right. Like he'd actually just give up and leave._

There was a door about twenty, maybe thirty, feet away, barely visible beyond several piles of packages and trash. Judging by the yellow light shining through the small windowpane, it led outside to the back end of the property.

That was it. That was her escape route.

If she could manage to make it to the rendezvous point and meet up with the others, it would be quite a story for them to hear. Escaping from _the _Batman... It was a wonder, though, that he'd decided to chase after her when he and the other hero, Robin, crashed their burglary. Jax and the others had taken off in one direction, and she'd gone in another. Was it really that important to catch the one straggler as opposed to the others who were dipping from the scene in the same direction?

Well, it wasn't like she could ask him.

No, there was no time for that. She could wonder about it later when she wasn't crouching in a dark, cold warehouse with Batman probably looking right at her. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for her one and only attempt to make it out the door. A few peeks here and there told her that he wasn't in the immediate vicinity, so she reached behind her head and pulled on the hood of her sweater as if the additional coverage would do the final trick.

She was slinking towards the door, still wary of any movement nearby, when a large shadow suddenly fell onto the ground before her. She straightened up, nearly losing her balance as ice cold shock flooded her body. Batman's tall, intimidating figure loomed over her, the outline of his mask standing out despite the darkness, and the air seemed to just vanish from her lungs.

"Stop running, Jessica."

The mention of her name sent another wave of surprise over her, leaving her speechless. At least, more than she was a moment ago. First, the dramatic and sudden entrance, and second...

"You know my name?" she managed to ask, surprised she even had a voice.

He took a slow step toward her, and her feet seemed to have lost the ability to move. "Jessica Fairchild, seventeen. Runaway, orphan. For two months, you've been running with the wrong crowd. Also a meta-human with abilities you've used to hurt people since you arrived in Gotham."

Batman paused, then added, "Your parents died two years ago, and you're estranged from the few family members you have left."

Jess wasn't sure how to feel, but she was definitely stunned. He'd just recited her whole life to her like he was reading off flash cards for a quiz. It might have been impressive if it wasn't for the fact that it made her feel vulnerable and exposed as if her identity had been revealed. This was the first time in a while that she heard her last name let alone mentions of her past that she'd tried to forget... tried to run away from.

This was something he always did, wasn't it? Batman was known to be a master detective and gave local police a run for their money. But it didn't make his reciting of her life any less bewildering.

She still hadn't said anything, staring at him in confusion and astonishment.

"I can help you." His voice was gentler now. "You're not a bad kid, Jessica. It's not too late to walk away."

The second mention of her name seemed to snap the teen from her awe. "How do you know anything about what kind of person I am?" It was almost defensive, the way the words left her mouth.

She could've sworn his eyes were narrowing at her from behind the mask.

"You helped Robin when he was hurt, didn't you?"

Memories of her first encounter with the other hero filled her mind's eye: the failed blackmail operation, the pouring rain that had soaked her clothing, the young man sitting on the ground with a bleeding gash in his leg. Everything had happened so quickly; she recalled not knowing what to do, whether she should help him, how she felt like she couldn't just walk away after Jax had done that to him...

Jess hesitated before crossing her arms and replying, "He wasn't meant to be hurt."

"Which means you have boundaries, and that means something."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he kept on.

"Turn them in, and you won't go to jail."

"What?"

"It doesn't take a genius to see you want a better life than this. You _can _make a better one if you leave this behind."

Batman stepped to the side, away from the door. The darkness engulfed him more, and he almost blended in despite Jess's eyes having adjusted. "Think about it."

It took a moment for her to realize he'd moved in order to let her pass and get to the exit. Was he really letting her go? She slowly stepped towards it, unfolding her arms and reaching for the handle, gaze still on him as if anticipating he'd change his mind.

He didn't. Jess had the door open, letting a faint breeze drift into the building. She felt like she should say something, but what? About to step through the doorway, she heard: "Make the right choice."

Mild irritation at his persistence stung her, and she turned to respond along the lines of how he didn't know her, didn't know about her life or what she supposedly wanted.

But with the light from the street lamp spilling through the doorway and into the building, Jess saw that he was no longer there. It was just her, the mounds of boxes, and the ever steady dripping of rainwater.

* * *

"So you let her get away."

The dry voice salted with annoyance accompanied the dark-haired hero dressed in red and green as he met Batman on the roof of the warehouse. It was eerily quiet; other industrial buildings down the street were dark and unoccupied, and the night threatened to overwhelm the few street lamps littered about this rundown part of Gotham.

"She'll come around. We just have to give her some time," the older hero responded promptly, looking out into the street.

"Time to do what? Keep stealing and hurting people?"

If Batman sighed, he was doing so at this moment. Turning around to face him, he changed the subject. "What about the others?"

Robin rubbed at a sore spot in his upper chest. "They split up again after they exited the building. I nearly intercepted the one in charge, but the bastard apparently knows how to fight. He had weapons, even a smoke bomb."

It certainly wasn't something he liked to admit. Someone beating him in a fight or managing to escape? That rarely sat well with him. It didn't help that the culprit and his gang had gotten away... and for the second time. It helped even less that Batman had let the teenage girl go all because he thought he saw some chance at redemption for her. Not unusual of him but ridiculous nonetheless.

"We'll get them," was all Batman said, starting to head across the rooftop.

"What makes you so sure we will if you're just letting the criminals escape like that?"

Truthfully, it was a rhetorical question. He knew why the man had let the girl go and why he wasn't as bothered about the others escaping. But Robin had never agreed that this was a good idea in the first place. Batman was well aware of his opinions and, as usual, didn't care.

"She'll come clean. All she needed was a push."

Without another word, the Dark Knight leapt off the rooftop, his cape spread behind him to guide his flight to the ground. Robin shook his head, burying his annoyance, before following suit.

It didn't matter to him that Batman thought this Jessica was worthy of another chance. In his eyes, she was old enough to tell right from wrong, and everything she'd done warranted consequences. And, knowing his father, he recognized that they had different ideas in mind for what kind of consequences she should suffer.

As far as Robin was concerned, she was a criminal. End of story.

* * *

They first met by accident in the streets of Gotham.

The rain poured hard, soaking any dry civilian in a matter of seconds. The sky was a bluish black canvas and most of the city was asleep, tucked into bed behind closed and locked doors.

Only the mischievous were awake at this time, and two masked heroes scoured the rooftops to catch them.

Batman had come across a lead on a notorious gang that had quickly risen to power over the last several weeks. They'd been leaving a trail of unusual witnesses in their wake of burglaries. Many of the injuries inflicted ranged from skin boils to heart attacks, but the most recent incident had left a high-profile businessman with a sudden respiratory problem.

The lead allowed Batman and his son to track down the gang to their next hit near a rundown neighborhood in eastern Gotham. Before the man sleeping peacefully in his one-bedroom apartment could be disturbed, the dynamic duo had intercepted them.

Unfortunately, the five masked gang members were no amateurs. Not new to escape tactics and even some hand-to-hand combat, the group split up in two groups, forcing Batman and Robin to chase them in opposite directions.

Landing effortlessly onto the pavement below, Robin sprinted after the three masks and was soon in the midst of flying punches and kicks. Even in the pouring rain his skill and accuracy usually never faulted, but tonight was an exception. He'd been arguing with his father earlier that day about the same damn things they usually bickered about, and it had grated his nerves since.

So when he saw the hooded figure standing yards away, his focus shifted from incapacitating the men.

Standing there in an alleyway among the injured gang members, Robin squinted through the sheet of rain. The figure pulled back the hood, revealing a girl with wide, panic-stricken eyes. She appeared to be around his age, perhaps younger, making her presence all the more jarring. Her gaze flickered between him and the coughing men on the ground.

"What are you waiting for?" one of them suddenly shouted.

Robin first assumed the man was taunting him to kill them. If he was... well, it wouldn't have been hard to do, and it probably wouldn't have sat on his conscience the way it would have on his father's.

Still, Robin opened his mouth to say something snarky, but then he heard: "No."

The girl's eyes were still wide as she stared at him... almost as if she were afraid of him. "I told you... no one innocent."

_She's _with _these men?_

In his momentary confusion, Robin didn't see the angry reaction of the masked man to his right. With a yell, he lashed out and sliced at Robin's thigh, earning a cry of pain from the teen.

"Go!" he heard as the gang members scrambled to their feet.

Hot, stinging pain radiated through his leg, and he fell to his knees. Instinctively, he reached for his waist, about to fling a round of birdarangs, but then he saw a pair of tennis shoes on the wet, cracked pavement.

The girl stood before him, worry creasing her brow. "Don't move," she commanded and knelt down towards him. Her tone wasn't threatening, but Robin still forced himself onto his feet away from her. There was no telling what she was trying to do, especially since she was clearly associated with the men he needed to stop.

The movement was a mistake; he buckled at the knees again and landed on his backside, splashing into a puddle. _Dammit._ He gritted his teeth in frustration, determined to finish what he and Batman had come here for. The idea of failing to complete the mission only made him angrier, and this teenage girl was certainly no help.

"Please." She moved towards him cautiously with her hands out, rain dripping down her face and dark hair.

This time, Robin didn't move—he wouldn't have been able to provide an answer if someone had asked him why. He watched as she held her hands above the bleeding gash in his leg, closing her eyes. What was she doing?

Suddenly, the pain dissipated. He looked down at the wound and, in disbelief, watched as the skin grew back together, sealing the bloody three-inch gap. A faint, glimmering light seemed to emanate from her palms, and for a moment, the young hero wondered if he was hallucinating. The stinging was no longer there and had reduced to a faint throbbing.

"Hey! What are you doing?! Come on!"

Robin looked up to see that one of the men was at the end of the alley, apparently waiting for the girl.

She opened her eyes and glanced quickly over at the man before looking back at Robin. For a brief moment, it seemed like she wanted to say something, but then she was on her feet and running, splashing with every step.

Sitting on the ground, fully soaked and in shock, Damian Wayne stared after her until she disappeared into the rain.

* * *

**Note: **hi there, thanks for reading! i'm a big fan of DC Comics and this is my first Batfamily-centric fanfic, so hopefully you're enjoying it so far. i actually published a previous version of this about a year or two ago (in case anyone noticed lol) but i have different plans for it now, hence the republishing. please drop a like/comment and let me know what you think :)

p.s. the cover is edited by me, but the actual character images are from the Injustice 2 video game. on that note, i only own what i've created, which includes the O.C. (Jessica) and other original characters.


	2. Secret Weapon

Chapter 2: Secret Weapon

**A few months ago**

It was supposed to be easy—they said it would take ten minutes at most. The back door would be their smooth way in and out, and there were two windows, one upstairs and one downstairs, that would be the backup exits. The couple would be leaving the house by 9:30 p.m., not returning for at least two hours.

But it was 9:37 and the LED lights of their luxury car were swinging across the large front lawn as the driver pulled in to the long driveway. The lights poured into the house's foyer, nearly blinding the man standing watch in dark clothing with a bandana covering his nose and mouth. Quickly, he hurried down the hall, cursing under his breath, then called to the girl who'd been patrolling the back end of the house.

Jess, dressed similarly to him with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and tucked under a hood, felt her heart leap into her throat at his warning. Immediately, she skipped up the stairs three at a time and ran to the doorway that led into the master bedroom.

A woman was crouched at the small safe hidden inside the bedside table, her movements careful and calculating as she pressed a stethoscope to the metal and twisted the dial, listening intently for the gratifying clicks. Though she wore a ski mask, it was clear all her attention was focused on her one task at hand, so when Jess whisper-shouted, "They're coming back," she started at the girl's voice.

"_What?_" Beth glanced over, incredulity coloring her tone. In the moonlight that washed in from the window, her blue eyes were wide with panic. "Damnit. I almost have it."

"We don't have time." Jess glanced behind her at the stairs, picturing the couple shutting the doors to their car. She had no idea why they were returning home – maybe they'd forgotten something – but it didn't matter. They had to escape. "Jax said we have to go."

"I need less than a minute. I'll be fine."

"But they're in the driveway –"

"We can't leave without it. _Go._" Beth gave her a glare before turning back to the safe.

Sweating with anxiety, Jess headed back down to the first floor, nearly colliding with Jax at the bottom of the stairs. He was raising his brows at her, then looking back up as if expecting to see Beth following her. She shook her head at him, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

Before he could respond, there was noise from down the hallway. The front door was opening and two voices spilled into the house, loud with annoyance as the couple argued about something. Something about a guy named Rodney attending the party and his flirty behavior.

Jess and Jax were at the back door to the patio within seconds, slipping through the crack just as the man and woman were approaching the staircase. Shutting the door and shrinking into the shadows at the side of the house, Jax whispered, "Get to the van. Beth should be coming out the window any second."

The two of them pressed themselves against the north side of the property, keeping to the trimmed bushes in low crouches. Heart thumping in her chest, Jess couldn't help but look back, expecting to see Beth right behind her, having successfully broken into the safe. But she wasn't there, and one glance at her watch told her it had been longer than the minute the woman had said she needed. Jax nudged her arm and she looked towards him to see that he was motioning for them to continue. He didn't seem to be as worried about Beth, but he did know her better than Jess did. They were siblings and had been living this kind of life for years after all.

If he wasn't panicking, maybe she shouldn't have been either. They were almost at the front of the house anyway, less than a minute from freedom and being thousands of dollars richer. That was assuming Beth was going to make it off the property with the prize.

"Hey!"

Both of them froze before turning to see the man they were stealing from standing mere yards away. The forty-something-year-old was dressed fancily in a black tuxedo and bowtie for the gala he and his wife were supposed to be attending... but he was also pointing a handgun. The sight was straight out of a James Bond movie.

Before Jess could even ask herself how he'd caught them, he was taking a step forward. "Don't run or I'll shoot," he threatened.

"That's not a very good idea."

Suddenly, something – no, _someone_ – was dropping to the ground behind him, and in a split second, Beth had her arm wrapped around his neck, trying to turn him away from the pair. The gun fell to the ground as the two of them struggled, and Jess stared on, unsure of what to do.

And then he was throwing his weight backwards, slamming Beth into the side of the house and causing her to loosen her chokehold.

"No!" Jax shouted just as the man hurriedly bent to scoop up the gun a few feet away. He turned to point it right at Beth, who was pushing herself up off the ground–

Without thinking, Jess threw both of her hands up in front of her, and the change was instantaneous. He was still standing and aiming the barrel, but utter confusion had crossed his face. Seconds later, it morphed into panic and fear.

And she could feel it. The way his heart was galloping in his chest with the adrenaline rushing in his veins... how the blood followed her command to pull back from his hands and arms, effectively cutting off circulation and thus any sense of feeling in them. She felt it all.

"My hands... I-I can't feel m-my hands..." he stuttered, horrified as he stared down at his arms.

Though it was nighttime, there was one outdoor light at the back of the house that he'd turned on before confronting them. In their position, Jess and Jax were just barely at the edge of the pool of light, but it was enough for all of them to see the incredible thing that was happening: a dark cloud or mist was swirling around her hands. The ghostly aura looked like it was traveling out from her palms towards the man.

"What are you...?" he tried to say, having glanced over at Jess and clearly panicking. Then he lowered his aim but couldn't let go of the gun. The entire length of his arms seemed stiff and awkward. "What's happening? Why can't I feel my arms?!"

Feeling someone touch her shoulder, Jess looked over and saw that it was Jax. His eyes were filled with something that could have been fear or disbelief, maybe both. "We need to go."

She turned back to the man who had fallen to his knees on the grass, still trying to release his frozen grip on the gun. Beth was approaching them, not giving him another glance. Dropping her hands, Jess released her connection, pulling back the control she had over the life and cells in his system. She knew the blood would start recirculating back into his arms and hands, but it would take a few minutes, which was enough time to let them get off the property and out of the neighborhood.

"I have no clue what you did back there," Beth said as they hurried towards the unmarked van down the street, "but you just saved my life, Jess."

Jess didn't respond as the van door slid open, revealing Ethan and Wyatt with Francis in the driver's seat. She hopped in and sat against the wall, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"Did you get it?" Ethan asked eagerly as soon as Jax shut the door behind them. Unlike the team who'd been in the house, the three waiting men were unmasked, and the curiosity was clear on their faces.

"Let's get out of here, Francis," Jax ordered, and the van started moving.

From where she sat, Jess was looking down at her bare hands. She could feel his eyes on her and did her best not to show any response to what was probably a judgmental glare. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears, and she couldn't stop seeing the look on the man's horrified face.

"We got it... but Jess has some explaining to do."

With a mental sigh, the teenager remained silent and continued to stare at her hands as if she didn't know what to do with them. But it wasn't like she hadn't known what she was doing back there; at this point, Jess actually had a pretty good idea of what she was capable of.

And now they did, too.

* * *

**Present day**

_"Stop running, Jessica... It's not too late to walk away."_

Almost twenty minutes after her encounter with Batman, his words were still echoing in Jess's head as she slipped into the shutdown antique store.

_"For two months, you've been running with the wrong crowd."_

She wondered how he would have reacted if she'd corrected him and said it'd been longer than that. Maybe she had only known the group for two months, but this wasn't her first "wrong crowd." Not by a long shot.

The store was swathed in darkness except for the light peeking out from beneath a door leading to the storage room in the back. She could hear low voices talking over each other as she approached.

"– if she did get caught?"

"Then she'll give him cancer or a couple skin boils or something."

"Yeah, but it's _Batman_, not GCPD, Ethan."

"Okay? You really think he's got some way to defend himself against her powers?"

"Like I said: it's Batman."

"Let's just wait a few more minutes–"

"How much you wanna bet she's at GCPD right now being interrogated?"

Pushing the door open, Jess announced, "I'm here." Five faces turned to look at her, and there seemed to be a collective sigh of relief in the room.

"Shit, thank goodness." Beth, whose blonde hair was in a messy, low ponytail, wrapped her in a quick hug before gesturing for her to take a seat at the desk near the door.

A camping lantern was on the corner of the desk, providing their only source of light. Jax was leaning against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets, and Ethan and Francis were sitting backwards on folding metal chairs, resting their arms across the backs. All the dusty shelves that had once stored collectibles, dinnerware, and other trinkets were pushed against the walls to make room. Though they'd been there a few times now, Jess still wrinkled her nose at the musty smell that hung around the shop.

Wyatt stood next to Beth, the black ski mask he usually wore hanging off the back of his head like a casual beanie. "You're alive," he stated, brows raised. He sounded surprised.

"What happened?" the older woman chimed in.

Jess explained everything... almost. She described getting to the warehouse, finding the exit, and not knowing where exactly Batman was, but there was no way she would tell them about the conversation. While making her way here to shop, she'd decided it probably wasn't the best idea come clean about his proposition. Something told her it wouldn't end well.

Especially if it was going to make them think she was going to consider Batman's words for even a second.

"But how did you escape _Batman_?" Francis's eyebrows were knitted together in disbelief.

"I don't know," Jess responded smoothly, willing her voice to stay neutral. Everyone's eyes were on her, and she was glad to be sitting down. Gesturing casually with her hands, she added, "Luck, I guess? I tried to be really careful and quiet... I managed to get out the door without him catching me."

Ethan ran a hand through his dark hair and muttered, "And here I thought we were good at sneaking around in the dark."

"It doesn't even matter how she got away," Jax spoke up from where he stood. Jess thought back to the conversation she'd overhead before entering the room; he'd been the one asking to bet that she was at a GCPD precinct being interrogated.

"What matters is that he and his sidekick have ruined our operations twice now, and it's getting fucking ridiculous."

"But we knew this was most likely going to happen," Beth sighed. "We're in Gotham. This is their territory."

She was right. When this group had found Jess outside of Central City, they'd been on their way to Gotham after pulling a few heists in Coast City. While they had hit a few jackpots there, stealing from the rich and working the black market, they knew better and bigger opportunities were in Gotham. They'd also known how much riskier and more dangerous it was precisely because it was Gotham.

Wyatt nodded his head over at Francis. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure this idiot said Batman would make things more exciting."

"And he got his death wish," Jax replied with a mild glare. His grey-blue eyes were burning with annoyance. Pushing himself off the wall and crossing his arms, he continued, "Phoenix is waiting on another delivery, and we haven't been able to get our hands on either prize because of those costumed freaks. So we need to do something about it. Now."

Though he was only in his early thirties, Jax sometimes had the patience and temperament of a five-year-old (though Jess would never dare tell him that despite how many times she'd wanted to). He was the most serious one out of them all, the guy who took no bullshit and refused to let anyone do anything outside of his specific instructions. When first joining them, Jess had no idea how his sister and the other guys tolerated him, but time and observation showed her that it was just how they worked.

Jax and Beth had years of street knowledge and criminal activity under their belts; Beth just happened to be the one more skilled in breaking and entering, and her younger brother was better at logistics and planning. Ethan and Francis were both in their late twenties, having come from broken homes. While they were mostly muscle, they knew their way around burglaries and even armed robberies. Wyatt was only a handful of years older than Jess, and unlike everyone else, he'd come from a privileged family and background; a major fallout with them had turned him to crime. Formerly a good kid living in a big house with a picket fence (or rather an expensive, private gate), he brought business connections and upper-class insight to the table.

And Jess? She fit right in; that's what they'd said at least. A teenage girl who'd been on the run on her own for less than a year, evading the family and police searching for her? It wasn't an easy thing to do, and it intrigued them. Of course, all of this was before they'd found out she was a meta-human.

"What are you suggesting?" Beth asked suspiciously, peering at her brother.

"We do another heist, but we have to be prepared for them again. And this time, our goal is different: we take them down." Jax's gaze flickered between the group members, his expression grim.

Ethan's brows shot up. "Take down who? Batman and Robin?"

"Are you insane?" Wyatt was clearly taken aback at the suggestion, his eyes wide. "There's no way we'd be able to do that, even with all five of us."

Beth was shaking her head, something she did a lot when it came to Jax. The disapproval was clear in her face. Still sitting in the corner at the desk, Jess kept her mouth shut. The thought of trying to actually go head-to-head with the dynamic duo was definitely insane; the group pulled heists and burglaries – getting caught up with masked heroes and vigilantes was never something they wanted to get tangled up in.

"I'm not saying we need to meet in a trailer yard and go to war," Jax pressed, throwing his hands up. "This can be a trap: we set it up like one of our usual heists, they obviously track us down to stop us, and we end up stopping them instead. We're never going to fulfill Phoenix's demand if they're on our tail and eventually take us out."

The room was silent for several long moments as everyone mulled over his words. Though she wasn't going to voice it aloud, Jess understood what he meant. There certainly was no way they'd be able to continue what they were doing in Gotham if Batman and Robin were targeting them. Plus, "Phoenix" was the group's fence and one of the best in the business; he or she (since no one really knew) managed to get them the highest bid prices for the items they stole. That meant the group had to keep providing those stolen goods to maintain the cash flow. With Batman and Robin in the picture, they would just be playing cat and mouse until the mouse left the city or was turned in to the cops.

_But what exactly does he mean when he says he wants to stop them?_

Francis seemed to have the same question in mind. "What do we do then?"

"I can reach out to some of our contacts outside the city to get weapons," Jax answered. When Francis opened his mouth to say something else, he added, "For just in case."

"We don't do guns and weapons, Jax," Beth insisted, staring at him. "You know that."

"How else do you think I got away from the kid in red?"

Silence fell among them again as the two siblings exchanged looks that no one but them understood. Reaching into his pocket, Jax pulled out a small switchblade and twirled it between his fingers. "And I don't think I have to remind you how this little thing saved us from him the first time."

Jess recalled that night and how he'd questioned her healing the young hero. She'd reminded him that she didn't want to hurt anyone that wasn't their target, which the group had agreed upon when they took her in. Luckily, Beth had stepped in and supported her decision. It was one of many instances in which she had to be the voice of reason with her brother.

"Don't worry. I'm not suggesting we kill them. That'd be stupid," the older man drawled, slipping the switchblade back into his pocket. "We just scare them a little. Show we're not just a bunch of amateurs that they can easily throw behind bars."

Wyatt passed a hand over his face, then gave a lazy shrug. "I guess that could work. It'd be nice to have them off our backs, but I think we still need to be careful about how we do this."

"Right, I'm with Wyatt there, but I'm still confused," Ethan admitted, his curious gaze bouncing around the room. "We're gonna get some gear and just rough 'em up a little?"

"The weapons are mainly just for show," Jax explained. "Hopefully we don't have to use them 'cause I have a better idea for how we tell them to back off… _without_ resorting to black market weapons."

His eyes flickered to Jess then, chilling her skin from head to toe. She knew his answer immediately before he'd even finished.

"We use her."

* * *

**Note: **thanks for the follows and favorites for just the first chapter so far! xx


	3. Robin to Robin

_"They show you how to swim,_

_then they throw you in the deep end_

_I've been learning since,_

_but it doesn't mean I'll float"_

_~ The Neighbourhood, "Float"_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Robin to Robin**

There are at least seven different ways to incapacitate a single target with three different close-range weapons, and he knew all of them. He also knew another five ways to do it with two more, yet none of them included fighting with one hand tied behind his back — that was another three techniques at the least.

But today, the sparring target was simply a classic punching bag, and the weapon of choice was his own fists.

Dressed in a t-shirt and sweats and alone in the training corner of the Batcave, Damian threw a right hook at the bag, watching it swing a few inches back.

Most of the time, he trained with weapons, especially a staff or katana, but neither of those were going to help ease the pent-up frustration he'd been harboring for days. For once, this was less about practice and more about stress relief. There was something more rough and personal about imagining the bag as a big-time criminal or a murderer and throwing a punch right in the imaginary face... over and over again.

It'd been three days since they lost the gang and his father had let the teenage girl escape. The two of them hadn't spoken much since then. Bruce didn't seem to be planning for another chance to capture them, not when he wanted to give her time to consider his "offer."

The thought made Damian more irritated than he already was. His taped knuckles collided with the worn bag once, twice, three times, then four—

"What did the bag ever do to you?" a familiar voice called.

He glanced across the room, not relaxing from his stance. Dick Grayson had waltzed in, dressed casually in a sweater and jeans. His dark hair looked freshly cut, or perhaps he was taking more care of it than most men wanted to, and the former Robin was wearing a hint of a smile, like his joke had sounded better out loud than it had in his head.

This was the first time Damian had seen his older brother in several weeks, but his presence wasn't surprising. Dick had always made it a priority to visit the two Waynes and Alfred every now and then. Of course, the time between visits had spanned months here and there due to the grown man having his own family and responsibilities.

The teenager didn't answer. He rolled his shoulder a few times before tossing a few more punches, each one harder than the last. The joint along with one of his pec muscles were still vaguely sore from the kick to the chest he'd received from the gang leader the other day. It was nothing he couldn't handle, but the minor injury was far from what had him treating the bag the way he was. Sweat was gathering on his brow, and the room was starting to feel too hot.

"Those look more like angry, I-hate-everybody punches rather than calculated ones."

Sighing, Damian turned away from the bag and grabbed the bottle on the bench nearby. In the corner of his eye, Dick was approaching, brows raised expectantly.

"I'm training," Damian responded briskly after taking a few swigs of water.

"You know I can tell the difference between you practicing and you taking your frustration out on something by punching it a lot."

Damian could've snapped with a sarcastic remark, but he didn't have the energy to do so. Instead, he sat down on the bench as Dick took up a position at the wall near the bag, leaning back and crossing his arms. It was no surprise that the older man could read him so well—he was intuitive and empathetic, both of which were characteristics Damian had never really possessed or learned to fully embrace.

Grabbing the roll of elastic tape next to him, he proceeded to wrap his hands some more while ignoring the slight throbbing in his fingers. Though he attempted to busy himself with the task, he was very aware that Dick was still looking at him. "Did he ask you to come and talk to me?"

"Bruce?" Dick asked. "Am I not allowed to be a big brother and check on you once in a while?"

His tone was playful, but it still made Damian feel like he was eleven years old again, untrustworthy and reckless... according to his father at least. For a brief moment, he felt guilty for questioning the older man's intentions, knowing it was well within Dick's nature to ask anyone how they were doing.

"I'm sorry," Damian apologized, setting the tape down and massaging his hands, which felt more like a physical display of nervousness rather than actual discomfort. With another sigh (he was doing that a lot now, wasn't he?), he added, "I've... had a lot on my mind."

It was a basic, cliche way to admit the feelings and thoughts clouding his mind, but he knew it was enough for Dick to understand.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I decided to stop by." Dick gave him a friendly smile. "If it makes you feel any better, Bruce didn't ask me to do anything. In fact, I haven't spoken to him much since I last saw you both." He paused to appraise the teen for a moment. "Anything you wanna talk about?"

Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, Damian trained his gaze on the floor in front of him. Speaking his mind had always been easy, but only in the sense of sharing perspective and, sometimes, unwarranted opinions. That wasn't the same thing as being vulnerable enough to share his deepest desires and fears, but in the years he'd spent living with his father and wearing the Robin suit, he'd gone under what often felt like intensive character building. Bruce and the rest of the family had to help Damian reel in the stubbornness and arrogance he'd arrived with all the while teaching him values that were supposed to shape him as a person and a hero.

No one had done a perfect job, but the results _were_ there. He was still with his father and Alfred, after all, and had been on the Robin mantle for more years than he'd anticipated.

And that tied too perfectly into the reasons why he was struggling in the first place.

"I can just listen," Dick offered with a slight shrug. "No unsolicited advice if you don't want it."

_But I may actually need it._

This certainly wasn't the first time he felt at war with himself, wanting to be open about the troubles that kept him up at night while also wanting to pretend things were fine. Damian may have learned to give up some of his less desirable tendencies in exchange for the ones that made him a better person... but that didn't mean his internalized conflicts were any less difficult. If anything, they were harder to bear.

He couldn't tell him. Damian had already run the numerous possibilities and outcomes through his head, imagining what his father and everyone else might say. At times, he'd worked up enough courage to make it down the stairs and into the Batcave's entrance, those seven little words on repeat in his mind like a mantra. But not one time did the sentence ever really leave his mouth. At the last second, the doubt always managed to slam him right in the chest, making him wonder if his decision was really one he wanted to make.

Dick was an understanding man, but the last thing Damian wanted to do was let him—or anyone else—down. So no, he couldn't confide in him today. Not at this moment when his self-control and ability to keep his emotions in check were already wearing thin. (Dick had just managed to catch him minutes before he likely would have blown a hole in the bag.)

Looking up at his brother, Damian found himself asking instead, "Do you remember the gang we told you about?"

It wasn't the immediate concern on his mind, but his problem with the gang and his father's methods frustrated him anyway. This he could talk about.

"Yeah. Wasn't Bruce in the middle of ID-ing them when we last talked?"

"We know all of their identities now, and we've been tracking their every move. One of them is... she's a meta-human from Central City and only seventeen. Biological manipulation, you could call it." An image of her hands hovering above his wounded leg flashed in his mind. "She's been on the run from home for almost a year."

"And Bruce wants to help her." The way Dick spoke was matter-of-factly; he already knew where Damian was going with this. "Does that bother you?"

Damian hesitated for a few moments, wanting to choose his words carefully. He didn't feel like the question could merely be answered with a simple 'yes' or 'no.' His opinion on the matter was much more complex than that.

"I think he could be making a mistake," he finally said. "You know my thoughts about justice and criminals, Dick... and she's one of them. She's hurt people and has to face the consequences."

"Whoa, whoa." Dick raised a hand to stop him. "You're going to have to explain this to me first. What has she done? You said she's a meta-human?"

It didn't take very long to go over the details. The gang had started out small in Gotham City, robbing middle-class businesspeople and entrepreneurs or pawn shops. By the time Bruce and Damian had identified each member, they'd hit a high-profile donor by stealing a painting from one of her living rooms — apparently its worth was close to a few hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Their activity as a collective group went back about eight months and across the east coast, but the girl, Jessica, had apparently only joined them as recently as two. Soon after Bruce had dug up her history, he'd played the "she's just a kid" card, much to Damian's dismay.

She was merely a teenager, he agreed, but one who was nearly a legal adult and had used her abilities on people who had gotten in the gang's way. Did she even know one of her victims had been making weekly trips to Gotham General after living nearly fifty years as a perfectly healthy individual?

"Yet he wants to give her a chance to turn them in because... I don't know. Perhaps he thinks he knows this girl after putting together a six-page file on her," Damian expressed tiredly.

His father had to stop seeing young criminals the way he did. It was one thing that he already lived by this personal, moral code to never kill (to which Damian had eventually adapted), but it was another that he kept making exceptions for certain situations. In spite of how well they had managed to learn to work together over time, there were still a few differences in their methods that brought out their worst disagreements. Handling a juvenile delinquent was obviously one of them.

"I know he believes he's doing the right thing," Damian continued, glancing up at him, "but look at what happened to Jason."

Dick's brows furrowed together. "I don't think that's fair–"

"He can't save every troubled kid. He's already taken so many in, and now there are only a few of us left."

The two of them held a long gaze, Damian knowing he may have just toed the line. So much for being mindful about his words. It was hard to tell whether Dick's eyes were filled with pity or disappointment. He never angered easily, but he also never hesitated to put someone in their place.

Instead of responding, Dick left his place against the wall and moved to sit next to Damian. A moment passed before he asked, "Have you told Bruce all of this? Because it sounds like you have a lot to say."

_That wasn't even half of what I think,_ Damian wanted to respond.

"Yes, but... the conversation didn't last very long," he opted to say, looking down at his taped hands.

If there was anything he and his father still struggled with all these years, it would most certainly be seeing eye-to-eye. Understanding each other had always been a challenge apart from the other things Damian had tried to overcome.

"Let me rephrase: have you told Bruce all of this _nicely?_"

The teen gave him an unamused stare that said "Really?" and Dick held up his hands defensively. "I know I said I wouldn't offer any advice, but I'm gonna give it anyway. Robin to Robin." Damian rolled his eyes. "Talk to him again. This time, don't have the conversation while you're out on patrol let alone wearing your gear."

He opened his mouth to counter him, yet Dick gave him a knowing look and said, "I'm speaking from experience _and_ I know you both. Trying to have an honest conversation behind masks or while planning your next move in the cave only sets you up for failure."

Though he didn't quite want to admit it, Damian knew he was right. There was always supposed to be a line in the sand when it came to personal business and mask business, _especially_ in this family. Healthy, emotional compartmentalization was something that was more or less lacking, and that was evident in his father's behavior alone. It was ironic, really, considering how black-and-white he seemed to live his life.

"And personally, I'd consider the girl healing you as _some_ sign that she might not be all that evil. Doesn't that count for something?"

Damian shook his head. "I'm not saying she's evil. I'm saying she needs to answer for what she's done."

"I know, Damian." Dick raised a brow. "My point is that you can't let your one-track opinion cloud your judgment when looking at the big picture."

As the teen paused to consider his words, there was a beep from Dick's pocket. He pulled his phone out to check the screen. "Sorry, D, but it looks like I need to cut my visit short." Standing from the bench, he looked down at him and added, "Let him know I stopped by, alright?"

Damian only nodded, watching as he started walking away. Dick's abrupt exit had him questioning his earlier decision to refrain from being completely honest about what was really going on in his head. The man was probably his one chance of getting things off his chest in the near future until he managed to come around again.

Dick then stopped to turn around and say, "And don't stress too much over this. You've made it this far by his side. I don't see why one case would suddenly change that." He gave an encouraging smile that did little to alleviate Damian's tension.

What he'd said was true except the case wasn't even the main problem. Damian had never encountered anything during his time as Robin that was groundbreaking enough to drive a permanent wedge between him and Bruce, but this was different. And if he'd told the whole truth to Dick, maybe his response wouldn't have been as optimistic.

"I know you've got a lot in that thick skull of yours," Dick said, tapping his own temple, "so you can always send me a text or call me."

_Say it, Damian. Tell him._

He started, "I don't…" but something lodged in his throat, preventing the words from going any further. It felt a lot like fear.

Dick was waiting, the expression on his face patient despite his urgency to leave. It was a look that Damian had often taken for granted, particularly when he was younger, one that he wasn't sure he deserved.

"I don't need anymore unsolicited advice," Damian tried to joke, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, "but I appreciate it."

Letting out a short chuckle, Dick gave him a casual salute in the doorway. "I'll try to come by again next week. Hopefully you're not still putting off talking to him by then." With that, he disappeared from view, his amusing albeit truthful comment hanging in the air with more weight than Damian wanted.

He remained on the bench, gaze still in the spot where Dick had been standing. He'd missed the best chance he had to finally clear his conscience out loud. For what felt like the hundredth time, those damn words were on the tip of his tongue, barely making it out but still failing.

Again.

* * *

**Note: **thanks to **akagami hime chan **for being the first reviewer! Jax is sometimes a little too haughty to think reasonably, so i completely agree with you there lol. fighting Batman and Robin with a switchblade? i'll just... make the popcorn.

tbh i had a really hard time figuring out if i wanted to end this chapter revealing what Damian's going through, but obviously i ultimately decided to address it later on. feel free to offer your guesses – just don't expect me to confirm or deny ;)

anyway, i'm hoping to have a consistent schedule for this and will strive to update every weekend. until next time! xx


	4. Truth vs Trust

**Chapter 4: Truth vs. Trust**

He'd been in his bedroom when Alfred knocked, saying Bruce was looking for him. It took a few minutes, but eventually Damian made it down to the Batcave after wondering what his father could possibly want to see him for. Perhaps he wanted to discuss the case, yet the teen couldn't help worrying a little that he was going to ask to talk about their current disagreements.

Except Bruce wasn't very good about being the first to bring up a serious discussion… not that Damian was any better. His father could be surprisingly ignorant to things going on around him in spite of his skills as a detective. At least it made Damian's weighty secret a little easier to carry.

Ever since Dick had come and gone earlier today, Damian had wasted no time getting back into whatever would take his mind off the conversation: more "training," listening to whatever music would drown his thoughts, and a quick run with Titus. Deep down, he knew there was some truth to his older brother's wisdom, but nothing about his advice was going to make him march right up to Bruce and announce his feelings and intentions. Not yet anyway.

The clanging sounds of his footsteps on the metal walkway echoed as he approached the main area of the cave. Bruce was standing in front of his cluster of computer monitors, standing with his arms crossed as he scrutinized a spread of information before him. He must've come from the office; he was wearing a dark grey suit, and his hair was neatly combed compared to Damian's disheveled locks.

Before the younger Wayne could announce himself, a voice came from the computer, loud and clear as if the speaker was in the room with them.

"I don't know, Bruce. She didn't seem fazed when I showed up. Honestly, I don't even think she was really all that worried."

He recognized Barry Allen's voice and vaguely wondered why his father was speaking to him. Silently, Damian moved to stand beside him in front of the computer and skimmed the files on the monitors.

Bruce had pulled up all the information he had on Jessica Fairchild. There was a digital copy of her birth certificate as well as hospital and school records. In the corner of the screen, Damian could see a photo of her from a yearbook photoshoot during her sophomore year of high school. Her dark hair fell in unkempt waves on both sides of her face, but the slight smile she wore didn't seem to reach her wide although tired, hazel eyes. On another monitor were a few Central City police reports, including a missing child case. Ah, well, now it made sense why he was talking to the man who was CCPD's forensic investigator.

"What did she say?" Bruce asked, glancing over at Damian briefly before looking back at the monitors. "Anything helpful?"

"I mean, she talked plenty, but I wouldn't say any of it was really 'helpful,'" Barry responded. "It sounds like she doesn't have much of a relationship with Jessica. Before her brother and his wife died in the crash, the last time she'd seen them was when Jessica was six."

"So Lora and Ian weren't close."

"Seems like it. She said Jessica was a troublesome kid, but I'm not sure how she gathered that when she barely knew her."

As they spoke, Damian took it upon himself to catch up and read everything on the computer. The woman they were referring to, Lora Fairchild, was Jess's aunt on her father's side of the family. She was her only living relative and had been sent to live with her after the car accident took her parents' lives. According to the police reports, Jess had run away a month later and then a few more times over the next several months. Only one of those incidents noted she had come back on her own; the other times, she returned home because the police had found her.

When Jess had run off once more after not even a year of living with Lora, she was gone for a whole week. That week had turned into two months, then Lora had asked CCPD to close the missing child case. Something about that piece of information made Damian's eyes narrow as he absorbed it all, trying to understand the context of Bruce and Barry's phone call.

_Only two months?_

"Ms. Fairchild couldn't provide any information about places Jessica frequents? Motives? Desires?" Bruce asked. "Not even hobbies?"

There was an audible sigh on the other end. "Nothing, Bruce. She was pretty transparent about not really knowing Jessica at all besides her being… well, a pain in her ass. Said a few things about how she was always out of the house and disobedient, but when she was home, she never wanted to do anything and usually shut herself away."

"The girl was grieving." The disbelief was heavy in Bruce's tone as he shook his head.

"Yeah, I know," Barry answered in a grim tone. "I'm sure you already know this, but Jessica stopped seeing her therapist after a few months. Of course, he didn't disclose anything at first, but once CCPD opened the case and declared her missing, he described her as a girl who was just having trouble coping with her parents' deaths – really quiet during sessions, not actively seeking ways to deal with her feelings, displaying signs of survivor's guilt. They didn't make a lot of progress."

Bruce was silent for a moment, staring at the computer monitors. Damian watched him, wondering what he was thinking. He knew his father was likely comparing her parents' deaths to his own experience as a child. How could he not?

"Anything else?" Bruce then asked, having shaken himself from his thoughts.

"That's pretty much all I got from Lora. She didn't seem shocked to hear her niece is allegedly part of this gang or even that she's a meta – I dunno if there's a whole lot that does surprise her. But I asked that she reach out if she can think of anything else that might help or if Jessica contacts her. She, uh, kinda scoffed at that and said, 'I highly doubt she will.'"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bruce replied, "Alright, Barry. Thank you for your help."

"No problem. Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

When he hung up, Damian took a moment to mull over what he'd learned. Just minutes ago, he hadn't known much about the girl besides the general overview of her past that they'd discovered. He could see why his father wanted to know more because if he did want to help her, he had to understand the context of the things she'd been through. Still, he wasn't so sure he saw what it was that had convinced Bruce she would turn her life around and help them apprehend the gang.

Damian was considering asking what their next move was when Bruce turned to him and said, "I need you to patrol on your own tonight. There's something I need to do."

Classic Bruce, getting straight to the point.

"Might it have something to do with the phone call you just had?" Damian asked with a raised brow.

"I'll update you when I'm finished," his father replied as he tapped away at his keyboard. "Then we'll form a plan. We need to put an end to their activity sooner than later."

Classic Bruce again but with avoiding a straight answer.

Annoyed, Damian kept his mouth shut and turned on his heel to head back into the manor. After nearly a decade of living with his father, he was used to his vagueness, but this was especially irritating.

"Damian."

He tossed a glance back to see that Bruce was looking at him, his focus shifted away from the computer.

"You know that I trust you out there on your own. I… I need you to trust me on this, too."

Keeping his facial expression neutral, Damian merely gave a nod before continuing on his way. On any other day, perhaps he would have corrected him and said it wasn't about trust. He would have argued that Bruce allowing him to go out as Robin alone was not the same as what he was doing with this case... but today wasn't that day.

Hours later, he was fully dressed in his gear and standing on a rooftop in east Gotham. His cape fluttered behind him in the slight breeze that swept over the city and worsened the night chill that seeped into his bones. Robin welcomed the light wind though, his body warm and veins pumping with adrenaline after a few fights and apprehending those who were up to no good.

Below him on the street, recognizable red and blue lights flashed across the neighborhood. A woman clutching her bag to her chest was speaking to a GCPD officer near the patrol car while another officer led a man into the back of the vehicle. The man's hands were cuffed behind his back, and the angry red mark on his forehead was comically visible from where Robin stood.

The young hero smiled to himself a little. It'd been too easy to stop the purse snatcher, but knocking him out had still been another satisfying part of his night. That made eight captures across the city so far in under two hours, which wasn't an unusual rate for him. More importantly, being out here and protecting Gothamites was helping distract Robin from the more troubling things on his mind.

"Robin."

His father's voice came through his communication piece, pulling his attention away from the scene below.

"GCPD just received an anonymous tip. The caller was concerned about an unidentified, young woman wearing a hood who seems to be loitering south of Gotham Heights. There was mention of an unmarked van nearby. An officer is currently en route."

Robin already knew what he was implying: it was possible the caller had seen Jess, meaning her "friends" may be around as well. Considering the location in which she'd been spotted, it might have been safe to assume the gang was pulling another heist.

Reaching up to don his hood, he responded, "I'm on my way."

"Be careful. If it's them, it could be a trap."

He'd already known this, too, and the thought almost made him scoff. So few of the criminals and villains they encountered were ever smart. Though he was hardly worried about being tricked, he and Bruce had still put contingencies in place for every predicted outcome, including a foolish situation such as a trap.

Robin leapt across the short distance between rooftops and landed cleanly on both feet. "What is my priority?"

Before reaching Gotham Heights, he needed to know what mattered more to his father: changing Jess's mind or capturing the burglars?

There was a brief pause, then: "Detain them. If she's chosen to stay on this path, treat her like the others and stop whatever they're doing. I'll try to meet you as soon as I can."

_That won't be difficult._

Unlike the rundown neighborhoods where Robin had spent most of his time tonight, Gotham Heights in Burnley was much less crime-ridden and instead catered to a large part of the upper-middle class population. Tim had spent much time protecting this area in his days as Red Robin, although it certainly didn't need as much looking after as other parts of Gotham did.

The streets were noticeably quieter here. Robin had only seen two pedestrians out at this time so far, a couple walking home from a late movie or the bar. He spent a few minutes sweeping the southern edge of the neighborhood, taking care to check Sprang River, the canal that separated Burnley from Gotham's bigger island. There wasn't a soul in sight except—

A patrol car was heading westbound down the road towards Otisburg. Its speed was no more than a cruising twenty or twenty-five miles per hour, so it must have been the GCPD officer sent to check on the anonymous tip.

Robin decided to go the opposite direction. A few street lamps provided yellow-orange light on the sidewalks but didn't quite reach the back ends of the closed shops. He kept to the shadows then looked up to evaluate the surrounding buildings and pick one to climb. Once he was on the roof again, he'd have a better view of what was going on around him.

As soon as he reached for his waist to use the grappling hook, he sensed movement.

A figure was emerging from the darkness behind one of the buildings. Despite how far they were from the street lights, Robin could almost see underneath the hood that only partially concealed the girl's face. Dropping his hand back to his side, he stood in place and watched as Jess approached him. She stopped in her tracks a few yards away, and a long moment of silence passed.

Even with the careful distance between them, he could see the mix of wariness and confusion in her eyes. "I didn't think you'd be alone," she began. "Where's—"

"Someone reported your presence to GCPD," he interrupted her, watching her face carefully for a reaction. He was prepared for a chase if she attempted to escape.

To his surprise, she only replied, "I know."

Something about the way she said it set off a lightbulb in his head. "You made that phone call, didn't you?" he asked, realization dawning on him.

"I mean, I didn't really have a choice," she explained, shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "It's not like your number was in the phone book or anything."

Robin didn't laugh. He could have been impressed by her resourcefulness if he weren't more concerned with why she was here. What were her intentions? She had gone through the trouble and risk of outing herself to the police in order to get his and Batman's attention. And unless his instincts were failing him, they appeared to be alone without her friends hiding nearby, preparing to strike.

That meant there could only be one explanation for this impromptu meeting.

"Look, I don't want to waste your time." Her gaze bounced around at their surroundings, a telltale sign that she was nervous they'd be seen. Or perhaps it was Robin making her anxious. "Tomorrow night, a few minutes after 1 a.m., you need to be at the museum in the east wing where the relics and gems are."

"Why?"

She glanced down at her feet before meeting his eyes again. "We're going to be stealing one of them, and... the heist needs to be stopped. I can't be part of what they do anymore."

So his father had been right. Just as he had hoped and predicted, she was turning her back on her lawless friends. Not only had she taken the chance by meeting in person but she'd also given the details of their next heist. Any other person would have simply provided the names of each member. By going this route, the gang would be caught red-handed in the middle of their act. Robin wasn't yet sure how to feel about it, but what he did know was that it felt too early to have any kind of celebration.

Batman _had_ given her a proposition that involved keeping her from behind bars. Was that her ulterior motive?

"And what about you?" he asked, deciding he would be upfront. "Are you doing this because of what Batman told you?"

Jess seemed taken aback; her brows were raised in slight disbelief, and then she wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "I... no. I'm—I'm just as guilty as the rest of them."

Despite his mask, something in his face must have given him away because she added, "I'll turn myself in. Besides, I'm sure you'd find me before I was out of the city anyway."

Robin was still hesitant to believe her right away. In all of his life, he'd never been one to trust anyone easily.

"I have to go," she said suddenly, glancing at her watch, "before they notice I'm gone."

Just as she turned around to fall back into the shadows, he stepped towards her. "How do I know I can trust any of what you said?"

She at least had to know she shouldn't peg him as a gullible idiot because such an assumption would've been wrong.

Looking back at him, Jess hesitated. "You don't. I guess the only way for you to find out is to show up." With a shrug she added, "That's what I did."

He said nothing, trying to find a way to contradict her. Though he had no idea if there was any truth to this conversation, Robin couldn't deny she had certainly taken risks tonight. Hell, he could handcuff her at any moment yet she was still here, taking the chance that he would hear her out like she wanted.

He couldn't decide if it was moronic or brave.

After another moment of neither of them speaking, she then slipped around the corner and vanished from his sight. Reaching up to push at the button hidden in the front of his chest piece, Robin activated his comms.

"I just spoke with her, but she was alone. It turns out you were right – she's going to turn in her friends."

* * *

When Jax had pretty much volunteered her that night she'd escaped from Batman, Jess had misunderstood what he meant. The way he had proposed his idea at first sounded irresponsible and even violent, like he'd wanted her to hurt them... but after his discussion with Beth and gathering the group, it became clear his intentions weren't actually to use her and her powers like she'd feared.

Instead, they'd take advantage of her age and the fact that she'd joined them just recently. By Jax's logic, Jess could easily be seen as young, misguided, and scared to an outsider (specifically heroes like Batman and Robin). So why not manipulate those perceptions to lure the duo away from where the real heist would be? She simply had to give them some misleading information. Assuming they believed her, it would be hook, line, and sinker.

"All you gotta do is put on an act," Jax had instructed. "You're just a kid, you're scared, and you want out. Gotham's greatest won't be able to resist helping you."

At the time, Jess couldn't help being reminded of her short conversation with Batman. Without even knowing about it, Jax was hitting the nail on the head perfectly. It was quite the coincidence, but something about the plan rubbed her the wrong way. Was it because of the high risk they were taking? Or did it have something to do with how much time she'd secretly spent considering the Dark Knight's proposition?

No matter what it was, the teen went through with the plan anyway when she'd met Robin. Just as she'd been told, she'd made her case and told him everything the group had rehearsed days before.

After about thirty minutes of walking across Gotham, somewhat confident she wasn't being followed, Jess met up with the others. She headed to the van parked in an inconspicuous alley, hoping her pretend show of getting cold feet had been convincing enough for Robin... and her fellow group members.

"You deserve a Grammy for that performance," Ethan praised her with a light grin as she climbed in and took a seat next to him.

"You mean an Oscar, you dumbass." Wyatt elbowed him before turning back to Jess. "But I agree. I was thinking maybe you should've cried a little for effect, but–"

"It was perfect," Jax cut in from the other side of the van. He gave her an approving nod. "I'm sure they'll be jumping at the opportunity to throw us in jail now. But it sounded like only one of them showed up?"

"Batman wasn't there, and Robin didn't say why," Jess informed them while pulling the earpiece out of her ear and handing it to Ethan. The device was one of many supplies Jax had managed to call in for this last heist. "I'm not sure he believed me though."

Beth looked back from her position in the passenger seat, a friendly smile on her face. "You did great," she reassured. "We don't have time to worry about whatever Batman was doing anyway. You got the message through to his sidekick, and that's all that matters."

As the van started moving, Jess looked over to see Wyatt shaking his head. "If we pull this off, it'll be the greatest thing to ever happen to me." He paused, then added, "But that doesn't mean I'm coming back here ever again after we leave. One time with those guys is good enough for me."

Ethan nodded his head in agreement. "That makes two of us."

Jess had a feeling they were all feeling the same way. Successfully tricking and evading Batman and Robin? It seemed like a pipe dream… one that many small-time criminals in their position dreamed about. But once tomorrow night's heist was said and done, the group was fleeing Gotham as soon as possible. It would be too dangerous and reckless to stay any longer.

"No one wants to get out of here more than I do," Jax spoke up, looking around at them. "So we rest up tomorrow and make sure we're prepared, 'cause we're about to beat them at their own game."

* * *

**Note: **thank you sm to **Fairy Tale Master23** for the review, i'm glad you love this story :')


	5. Playing Stupid Games

**Chapter 5: Playing Stupid Games**

**1:05 a.m.**

He could tell something was wrong the minute they dropped down into the museum, landing in the large, open lobby that split off to different corridors. Perhaps it was only his gut feeling or even the fact that he'd begun the night expecting something wasn't right. Either way, Robin kept the thought to himself as he turned to Batman next to him, who was already nodding in the direction of the wing Jessica had mentioned.

It was 1:05 a.m. on the dot, and the entire building was quiet and dark as they made their way down the hall, listening and looking for signs of life other than their own. The sounds of their footsteps were almost nonexistent on the polished marble floors. Robin paid little attention to the ancient, priceless displays of Gotham history passing them by, too eager to find out whether Jessica's information checked out.

The question of her integrity had been debated between him and his father after he'd returned home last night. He had no reason to believe her, of course, but Bruce had insisted they give her the benefit of the doubt. Still, they planned for both possibilities of her story being the truth or the lie, and Damian couldn't help secretly hoping he would be right.

Ah, well, he was in luck.

The two of them had unlocked the double doors leading into the room where the gang was supposed to be... and there didn't seem to be a single person around. In the pressing darkness, Robin could make out the shapes of display cases and statues lined up against the walls, none of them appearing to be a masked burglar. It was just him and his father, standing there looking like a pair of gullible idiots.

As soon as he turned to Batman to comment on this genius decision to trust the teenage girl, the older hero raised a hand. "Listen," was all he said in a quiet voice.

Miffed, Robin followed his command and stood still, straining his ears.

There was a noise coming from somewhere across the large hall. It sounded a lot like a muffled voice. Quickly, the duo walked further into the wing to locate the source until it led them to a closed door in the back corner. A small plaque on the dark wood told them entry was only for employees.

"– have no fucking idea what's happening over there," a male voice was whisper-shouting beyond the door.

"We can't do anything from here," another voice chimed in, sounding less aggressive than the first man. "Let's just take care of Ba–"

"No. We leave _now _before they get here and see what the hell is going on with Beth."

Before either Robin or Batman could do or say anything, the door opened, revealing three men Robin recognized immediately. Despite the masks they wore, it was their dark clothing and physical builds that confirmed they were part of the gang. The only difference that stood out was the handguns two of them sported and the light machine gun the third one was cradling in his hands.

Even in the dark, he could see the eyes widening of one of the men in the back. Clearly, it must've been quite the shock, opening a door and seeing the two of them waiting there.

"Are we interrupting?" Batman asked after a long moment.

"So much for leaving before they show up," the man in the back muttered just as the masked man in the front sprung at them.

Batman took the hit, yanking him away from his friends. Dodging them, Robin ran and hopped up to grab the top of the door frame, using his momentum to swing forward and catch one of the other men with his feet. He was knocked backwards onto the floor as the young hero landed and straightened up. In the corner of his eye, he could see the third man reaching for the gun at his waist. In a flurry of movements, Robin disarmed him and struck the butt of the firearm at the back of his head, knocking him out.

The other man on the floor had barely made it to his feet when the same gun connected to his temple, and he slumped to the floor once again.

_Too easy._

He looked back through the doorway to see Batman standing over the first gang member. He was laying on his side, trying to catch his breath. After taking a few moments to inspect and empty the handguns, Robin pulled off what appeared to be canisters of laughing gas from one of the men's belts. Had they really been considering using that against him and Batman? He shook his head then proceeded to unmask the two men, revealing Wyatt and Ethan.

The small storage room appeared to be empty, which meant the other gang members were most likely somewhere else in Gotham if they weren't here in the museum. The small bits and pieces he and Batman had overheard was enough to hint that the group had separated for whatever this plan was supposed to be.

Robin did a quick sweep of the rest of the wing while Batman handled the lone burglar. When he approached them a minute later, the handkerchief was no longer covering half the man's face.

Jax Eastman glared daggers up at him before spitting at the floor and pushing himself up onto his knees, using the display case next to him for support. He appeared more of an asshole in person than he did in the mugshots they'd come across when digging up information on all the members. His blond hair was disheveled, and there were hard lines of anger between his brows.

Stopping next to them, Robin announced, "There's no one else around. The other two had standard issue M18s and a few cans of laughing gas." Glancing at Jax, he added sourly, "Sorry you didn't have a chance to use your black market toys."

"Seems unusual to be carrying this kind of equipment for a fake heist," Batman said, gesturing towards the LMG laying several feet away.

"One that you fell for," Jax answered with a humorless snort. "You vigilantes are pathetic."

His taunt grated Robin's nerves, and he looked towards his father for a response. Batman didn't seem to react; he merely stood there, waiting as if Jax would suddenly give up the act and tell the truth.

"It's too late now, anyway. They've already taken what we needed. They'll be out of the city before you can readjust your pantyhose and try to find out where they are."

A tingling feeling was growing in Robin's fist as he rolled his eyes. The man's pretentious attitude was horribly annoying.

Batman took a step toward him. "You were trying to leave before we arrived." He then pointed at Jax and added, "Something happened on the other end of that earpiece wherever your sister Beth is."

Jax's eyes widened for a moment, but he quickly recovered with another scowl.

"Where are they?" Batman demanded, louder this time.

The smug bastard sneered before saying, "Fuck you."

In a split second, Robin was reaching down and slamming Jax's head into the side of the display case. He fell over, unconscious, and the young hero turned to see Batman staring at him. "What? _You_ weren't going to do it. He didn't want to tell us anything anyway."

His father gestured towards Jax's sprawled figure. "Secure them so we can get them to GCPD."

He opened his mouth to say he'd been right about not trusting Jessica, but watching Batman walk away, he ultimately decided to remain silent. Besides, there was no doubt his father knew he'd been wrong. Perhaps he was already kicking himself for believing her. For a brief moment, Robin felt a small pang of guilt, but he dismissed it before it could mean anything.

If he was going to have any time to tell his father "I told you so," it would have to be later. He could bask in that glory after they managed to track down the other half of the gang... wherever they may be.

* * *

In all his years at GCPD, he was used to getting calls in the middle of the night. He hadn't always known what they would be about, though he was usually right whenever he did take a guess. Probably had something to do with him being a police commissioner and having to keep track of too many things happening in the department.

So when he got the call sometime after one in the morning, Gordon had a feeling he knew what the police officer was going to tell him. Maybe Batman was right (again) about the girl turning in her own friends. And if he was wrong (which was always a little frightening), then maybe Gordon was about to hear news of a break-in with no one around to arrest. Then later today, the mayor would be reaching out and asking why the gang was still running around Gotham...

"Hold on, hold on for a second," Gordon said, his cell phone pressed to his ear as he sat on the edge of his bed. He held his hand up even though the officer on the other end wasn't going to see it. "Say that again."

"The girl who called in the burglary at the library, she said she was helping them do it. She said to also check the museum 'cause, uh, Batman and Robin are gonna be there? With the rest of the crew?"

Well, this was something the commissioner was pretty sure even the masked detective hadn't seen coming. What the hell was going on?

"Alright," Gordon responded as he grabbed his glasses from the bedside table. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

* * *

**2:01 a.m.**

The metal chair was cold under her thighs, but the ice pack that she pressed against the side of her head was even colder. After the night's events, there was still a slight hammering pain plus a swollen bump above her ear. She knew she could probably take less than a minute to heal herself and make it all go away, but Jess hadn't wanted to since the disaster took place. She didn't want to use her powers at all.

Leg bouncing nervously, she sunk lower in the chair and flipped the ice pack. The other side of it was icier, causing her to wince. She kept her gaze on the table in front of her, aware that there were people on the other side of the one-sided glass, watching.

A clock hanging on one of the walls ticked on, its sounds the only thing she could hear besides the nervous thudding of her own heart. Only about five minutes had passed since they had brought her to this room, but it'd felt more like hours. She wasn't even sure what was supposed to happen next or who could come through the door.

The person that did enter the room minutes later turned out to be a woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, with black hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore a plain black coat, and Jess could see the badge peeking from beneath it at the waistband of her pants. Sitting down across from her, the woman tilted her head and appraised her.

"Detective Renee Montoya," she began. "It looks like you've traveled quite a bit from home, Jessica."

She didn't respond, looking back down at the table, away from her gaze. What was she supposed to say to that? 'Okay'?

"Your aunt just booked a flight out of Central City. She should be here midday tomorrow. 'Today,' technically."

Oh... Great.

Renee leaned forward, trying to get Jess to make eye contact. "We have a lot of questions for you, but I understand your aunt wants to have a lawyer present."

"No."

Her answer was so immediate, even Jess was surprised with herself. Renee seemed to react the same way, her thin brows raising in curiosity.

Clearing her throat, Jess sat up in her chair and set the ice pack on the table. Not only did she have no desire to let Lora make decisions for her, but she also needed to get all of this off her chest while she had the chance... while she still had the courage, if you could even call it that.

"I don't need my aunt or a lawyer. I'll just... tell you everything," she responded, glancing up at the detective. "Where do you want me to start?"

She straightened up in her chair and thought for a moment. "Start with tonight. How is it that we have five of your friends with extensive criminal records in custody because of you?"

"They're not my friends."

An image of Beth's blue eyes wide with panic flashed in her mind.

Renee shrugged. "Okay. They're not your friends. Tell me how you ended up turning in your... associates."

Jess pressed her lips together, thinking about where exactly to begin. The woman had told her to explain what had happened tonight, but at this point, it seemed like her hesitation with the group had begun long before this library heist. That was probably irrelevant though, at least to Renee. She wouldn't care about when she'd started second guessing herself.

After taking a deep breath, Jess recounted the time at the library, explaining how they'd arrived just barely before 1 a.m. Unlike Jax and the other two at the museum, she, Beth, and Francis were pulling the _real_ heist…

**Over an hour ago**

"We're in the special collections now," Beth said.

Jess, who was following her and Francis into the small room, almost questioned why the woman was announcing their arrival but then remembered she had an earpiece in to communicate with Jax. Ever since he'd acquired the weapons and tech that they didn't normally operate with, things didn't feel as "normal" as they usually did. And that was on top of the fact that the group was split in half in two different parts of the city. That certainly rarely happened, too.

But the plan called for it, so the three of them were here in Gotham's public library while the others were at the museum, where Batman and Robin would hopefully make their appearance.

Francis took his post near the door leading out into one of the library's main halls, and Jess walked with Beth to the back of the building's more restricted area. The bookshelves were less filled here, and a few long display cases housed pages and books that were supposedly too important and fragile to be touched. Jess didn't really know what they were looking for, but it was going to earn them enough money to pay off the friends they'd borrowed from as well as keep them living comfortably after leaving Gotham.

"This is it." Beth shined her flashlight on a display case where a few worn books lay undisturbed on red velvet cloth. She handed the flashlight to Jess, who knew the drill and aimed it at the case.

As the woman got to work, searching for ways to get through the glass, Jess's mind drifted back to the same thoughts she'd been battling since her encounter with Robin. Up until now, she'd managed to push the doubt and what-ifs into the far corners of her mind. Yet being here, actively aiding in another burglary... the feelings were alarmingly persistent. After Batman had called her out and said all those things about having a better life, Jess had found herself wondering if that was really possible. She didn't want to think he was right, but that didn't stop the constant questions of "What if he _is_ right?" and "What if you could start over?"

Jess had spent a long time running from the things she never wanted to face, and this onslaught of feelings and thoughts was no exception. So why was the guilt for all the wrong she'd done and the doubt Batman had planted growing bigger by the second?

"Got it."

Beth was lifting the top of the glass, her gloved hands carefully folding it back until it rested on the back hinges. She swiftly took the books and placed them in her backpack, Jess watching her nervously. There was a discomfort rising in the teen's chest, a desire to say or do something that she normally didn't.

Like stop what was happening.

One hand at her ear, Beth said, "We've got them. We're leaving." She turned to Jess, who handed the flashlight back and waited for the woman to head back to the room's entrance. Instead, Beth looked at her for a long moment. Though her face was unreadable beneath the ski mask, her eyes were saying something. "I'm sorry, Jess."

Jess's brows furrowed together. "For what?"

Something hard collided with her head right above her ear, sending her to the floor in sudden pain. Stunned on the cold tile, Jess was overwhelmed with a heavy darkness that almost rendered her unconscious. A sharp, ringing sound pierced her right ear along with an agony that made her head feel like it was going to explode.

Despite the disorientation, she attempted to steady her hands on the floor and push herself up. A wave of nausea came over her, and she paused, shutting her eyes.

"That was supposed to knock her out," she barely heard.

"Yeah, well, you didn't hit her hard enough, obviously."

With a pained grunt, Jess finally sat up and blinked through the bright dots flooding her vision. She could barely make out a light to her left, splitting in two and then combining back into one as her eyes tried to focus. A figure approached from her right as she gathered enough strength to speak.

"What are…? What are you doing?" she managed to ask weakly. She felt out of breath, and the immense pounding in her head only made it worse.

The figure stopped and straightened, turning towards the light. Jess recognized it as Francis, who'd left his post at the door. That meant the light was Beth and her flashlight. She blinked a few more times and squinted at the woman, who was throwing her hands up.

"We weren't going to keep you around forever." Beth shook her head and took a few steps towards the door. "It was a good run, Jess, but it has to end here."

Looking down at her, Francis gave a lazy shrug. "Sorry, kid. Was fun though."

He started moving towards her again, raising the thick, hardcover book that he'd apparently hit her with the first time. Something kicked in then — maybe it was her fight or flight response, maybe it was abrupt anger and frustration. It could've been all of those plus some. Whatever the case, it broke through the hammering pain and heavy fog threatening to overtake her mind, just enough to let Jess react.

Throwing her hand up towards Francis, she took away his sight.

He'd been just about to swing downward. Nearly stumbling in his tracks, Francis dropped the book and stretched his hands out before him. "I... I can't see!" he exclaimed, hands wandering in the air aimlessly. He turned slightly and took a step forward, walking right into one of the displays. "Jess! What the fuck?!"

With one hand still raised at him, Jess scrambled to her feet, ignoring the throbbing in her temples. Beth started towards her but stopped immediately when the teen raised her other hand.

"Stay away," Jess ordered in a low voice.

"Jesus Christ, Jess. Cut it out!" Francis continued to stumble around the room with his hands out. If it weren't for the situation at hand, it would have been funny to watch.

Keeping her gaze on Beth, she demanded, "Take the earpiece out and toss it." She was trembling on her feet while maintaining her control over Francis's eyes, but she didn't care. Jess didn't care if she looked like an angry or scared kid — it was clear all they'd ever seen was a kid they were never really going to help.

It wasn't like Francis could actually literally see at the moment anyway.

After doing as she was told, Beth set the flashlight on one of the bookshelves, allowing the light to fill part of the room and better illuminate the scene. She raised her hands slowly in surrender, but the gesture didn't fool Jess.

"Your plan was to abandon me from the beginning."

"No." Beth shook her head. "We took you in, not knowing what we were going to–"

"Don't _lie_ to me. I can feel your heart racing, and you're _lying_," Jess accused, her voice cracking as it rose in volume. Truthfully, she was holding no connection to the woman's biological system, but Jess was convinced of her lies all the same.

From somewhere off to the side, Francis let out a frustrated groan. "Oh for fuck's sake, are we seriously doing this right now? Cut this shit out, Jess, or I swear I'll –"

Hot anger flooded her, and she lashed out. Focusing all her attention on him, Jess forced her connection to his body to strengthen so she could send his blood pressure through the roof. The change was instantaneous: he'd been leaning against the wall for support and was now keeling over with his hands to his chest. Not only was pain radiating through it, but his heart was also pumping irregularly fast… too fast. Francis was on his hands and knees then, making ragged breaths as his body went into overload.

Moments later, he fell over onto his back, unconscious.

With adrenaline pumping through her veins, Jess lowered her hand as she stared down at him. She was just starting to realize what she had done when suddenly she was knocked to the ground, pain shooting through the arm that took the fall. Beth was straddling her, and then —

No. She was _choking_ her. The woman's hands were tightening around Jess's neck as the teen tried to push her off, swatting at her arms. But Beth was strong, too strong for a girl who'd never been in this position before let alone been someone who really knew how to fight. It felt like Jess's heart was pounding harder in her chest as her lungs screamed for air. All she could do was panic, kicking her legs and clawing at the hands that were going to kill her.

"This is exactly one of the reasons why we never fully trusted you," Beth said, her masked face looming over Jess, blue eyes bright even in the darkness. "You have this incredible power, Jess, but we weren't going to let you use it against us at any moment. So we let you help us out these last few months."

Her vision was blurring; she could barely find the light from the flashlight somewhere on the other side of the room. And Beth's words sounded far away and buried under the frantic pounding in her ears.

"And now we can't take the risk anymore. I really am sorry."

Using the last bit of her strength, Jess found a way to Beth's heart and silently willed it to slow its beating. She could barely distinguish the two different essences that were Beth's living body and her own. Everything was becoming so muddy and dark. This was Beth's heart that she was controlling and feeling, right? Not her own?

Jess held on to the connection like it was a lifeline, desperate to breathe again.

The iron grip around her neck loosened. She could sense that Beth was feeling weak as her body struggled with the abnormal heart rate, the oxygen and blood not circulating fast enough through her system. The teen was finally able to suck in a breath and pull away Beth's hands, almost overwhelmed with uncontrollable heaves for air. As she wheezed, Jess pushed the woman off from her stomach, trying to still control her hold on her slowed heart.

Still on her back, she glanced over to see Beth laying on her side, eyes wide beneath the ski mask. Her mouth was slightly open as she took slow, weak breaths, fingers twitching with reduced movement. Jess tore her gaze away, looking up at the dark ceiling as her lungs caught up. Beth's heart was beating so slowly, it seemed almost impossible she was still alive. But when she looked at her again a few moments later, she saw that the woman had passed out, eyes closed and body limp beside her.

When she felt a little more recovered, Jess got up from the floor and looked between Beth and Francis laying several yards from each other, blacked out. She felt tired all of a sudden, exhaustion weighing down on her like a too-heavy blanket. Without warning, a sob bubbled up from within her, and she had to steady herself on a nearby display. The unexpected cries were surprisingly painful after the torture her esophagus and lungs had been through. Hot tears wet her cheeks while she looked around, taking in everything that had just happened.

She'd been rejected and abandoned. Again. They'd had their backs half-turned this whole time, and of course, she had been too naive to see it.

Wiping at her face angrily, Jess forced herself to calm down and looked through all their backpacks and around the room. There was nothing available to tie up the people who'd betrayed her, but she had a feeling they wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Heading out into the library's hallways, she found the public use phone on the wall that they'd passed earlier and picked it up. The receiver shook in her hands as she hit the two buttons.

"911, what's your emergency?"

At least the difference between now and all the other fucked-up moments was that she wasn't running. Not this time.

"My name is Jessica. I... I need to report a break-in."

* * *

**Note: **sorry for the late update! got way too swamped at work lately to have any brain capacity to spare. anyway, i wrote this up pretty quickly to get it up this weekend, so i apologize for any typos or sloppy writing lol.

thanks for the reads and reviews! till next time, xx


	6. Winning Stupid Prizes

**Note: **surprise! figured i'd make up for not updating the other week by posting again this week lol. it's a bit of a filler chapter, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless.

**also, i am in no way well-versed in the criminal justice system, so for these next couple chapters and wherever it applies in the future, please remember that xD i did my best with my friend Google. i like to be as accurate and realistic as possible where necessary, but alas, i'm human (and _not_ a criminal justice major or lawyer or anything of the sort)

thanks for the reviews, favorites, all of that good stuff :')

* * *

**Chapter 6: Winning Stupid Prizes**

She would have gladly spent more time in custody if it meant delaying seeing her aunt. After nearly three hours with Renee, they'd sent her to a temporary cell in the precinct for the rest of the night, and Jess didn't sleep for even a minute. At least it made the time go by more slowly. Unfortunately, when lunchtime rolled around, a police officer was approaching with jangling keys and calling for her attention.

He handed her the small bag containing what few belongings they'd taken the previous night: her watch and pocket knife. Shoving them into the pocket of her hoodie, Jess followed the officer through the precinct. Passing officers and GCPD employees barely glanced at her, too caught up in their own tasks to notice her presence, which was relieving. She wanted nothing more than to disappear and be alone.

Sitting on a bench in the hallway ahead of them was the familiar figure of Renee. Next to her, Lora Fairchild stood with her arms crossed, her graying, brown hair tucked behind her ears. She was sporting one of her fancy trench coats, this one a bold red, as well as one of her equally fancy designer handbags. The woman looked the exact same as the last time Jess had seen her, living in her own little bubble without regard for anyone or anything outside of it.

When her impatient gaze landed on Jess, the disapproval was evident in her eyes. The teen said nothing as she stopped a few feet from them, looking instead at the detective.

As the police officer left, Renee stood up and split a glance between Lora and Jess. "Well, this is where we let you go, Jessica. I hope the cell wasn't too uncomfortable."

"I've been in worse," Jess responded. She could feel her aunt looking at her, and it took a lot of her strength to avoid looking right back.

"Is that all?" Lora made no effort to sound polite, her tone sharp and almost condescending.

Renee turned to her with a brow raised. "Actually, no. Her case is being referred to our juvenile court. It'll be a day or two until they decide whether they'll dismiss it or file charges."

Her words sent chills over Jess's skin. Charges... as in being prosecuted and potentially going to jail?

Lora appeared equally shocked. "You can't just let her go?"

"In most cases involving minors, we do let them go. But considering everything Jessica has been through and the nature of this case, the circumstances are different. It's out of GCPD's hands at this point while the court reviews the evidence and report."

Neither Jess nor Lora said anything. With a sigh, Renee added, "That's just how most states handles these things. But trust me — you wouldn't want her tried as an adult. Especially not here in Gotham."

"So we have to stay here in the meantime," Lora said, reaching up to rub her temple. It sounded more like a complaint than a question.

"Do whatever you have to do, but be ready to be summoned." Renee looked at Jess, her expression unreadable. "I wish I could do more. I'm sorry. You should hear an update within 48 hours."

The detective walked away, leaving Jess with her frustrated aunt. The woman huffed a sigh before turning to head out the building's front doors. Following reluctantly after her, Jess kept a safe distance of several feet. The cool air swept into her face as they walked down the front steps, and she found herself subconsciously taking a deep breath of the open air. Gotham's sky was a gray-blue, the afternoon sun hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds. Few people walked to and from the parking lot, most of them in GCPD attire.

A cab was waiting at the curb. Jess slid into the backseat, continuing to avoid her aunt in every way possible by turning her knees and looking out the window.

"Take us to your best hotel," Lora told the man in the driver's seat, and the vehicle started moving.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, Jess staring at the scenery passing them by. While she was glad to be out of the precinct, being stuck with the woman who couldn't care less about her almost made her prefer the temporary cell. To think she'd traveled across the country to get her...

"You didn't have to come," Jess spoke without thinking. Though her eyes remained turned out the window, she knew her aunt was giving her a dismissive glance.

"What was I supposed to do? Tell the police, 'No, I'm not coming'?"

_Of course her answer is dismissive, too._

"Yeah. Why not?" Jess looked over at her then, seeing that familiar, offended expression on Lora's face.

"You don't think I should have come for you?"

"I don't see what the point is. I would've been fine on my own, and I'm sure you were doing just fine without me, too."

There had only been a few other times when Jess had gotten into it with her aunt. It wasn't like they had talked very much in the first place in the months she'd stayed with her, but their inability to get along had been obvious from the start. None of their disagreements had ever involved Jess's true feelings about their nonexistent relationship though. With the way this conversation was going, maybe that would change.

"You obviously can't be trusted on your own," Lora answered, her eyes narrowing at the teen. "You've gotten yourself into so much trouble that they couldn't just release you. _Court_, Jessica. You have to go to _court_."

Jess clenched her jaw and crossed her arms, trying to get a grip on her growing irritation. She didn't want to have this argument, not here, not now, but god, she just had _so much_ to say...

"Don't look after me then. Figure out a way to let me live without you so you don't have to come running to save me." The last several words came out with more spite than she'd meant. "Or just wait until I'm 18."

"No. You aren't fit to be running around with these—these _powers_ they say you have. You've done nothing but act like the reckless child that you are."

She was floored, unable to gather a response. Her aunt knew she was a meta-human... How did her aunt know she was a meta-human?

Lora didn't seem to register that Jess was speechless at the moment. "I don't think you realize how hideous this will look on your record," she scoffed with a wave of her hand. "Not that it was spotless to begin with."

"My record?" There it was now; the resentment she'd built up for too long was rising, and Jess was losing what little self-control she had. "Is that seriously all you care about? Actually, don't answer that. I already know."

"These stunts you pulled are going to be the things that keep you from getting a job, Jessica, or going to college," Lora was quick to snap. "You could be finishing your junior year right now, but you were off _robbing_ people and —"

"Well, I'm sorry I don't give a shit about any of that when both of my parents are dead!"

The sudden silence that followed filled the car with thick tension. Lora's mouth was half-open as she stared at Jess, but the teen was quick to turn back to the window. Whether her aunt was merely stunned, offended, whatever, it didn't matter to her. She was just tired, so tired of it all. The hellish night she'd been through, the betrayal that she should've seen coming, and now, not knowing what was going to happen with her case and if she'd end up in juvie...

She needed to scream or punch something or both.

Unsurprisingly, her aunt needed to have the last word. "Ever heard of that saying 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes'? Well, this is your prize, Jessica. You ran around playing runaway, and look where you are now." Her voice had lowered in volume, but it was laced with bitterness.

On her side of the cab, Jess held back the tears stinging her eyes, refusing to let Lora witness how upset she really was. She'd never let her see her cry before, but that wasn't going to change now.

They rode again in silence. Not even the cab driver had said a word, probably feeling incredibly awkward as a witness to their argument. Jess and Lora ignored each other even as they arrived at the tall, fancy hotel and checked in to the largest suite they had available. After not living in any actual home for almost a year, Jess felt out of place among the polished marble and chandeliers. The guests and employees they passed dressed as nicely as Lora did, making Jess's hoodie and jeans stand out.

Even the floral air freshener floating around smelled expensive. She wrinkled her nose, trying not to sneeze, as they took the elevator to the eighth floor and entered the room. Like the lobby and the outside of the hotel, everything was some shade of beige or gold. Two perfectly-made beds were at the far side of the room, and across from them were thick, wide curtains that covered an entire wall made of glass looking out over the street. Part of Jess wished she'd had her own room to lock herself in, but she was too exhausted to really care. The first thing on her mind was a hot shower or maybe a bath, something she hadn't taken in a long time.

As if reading her mind, Lora gestured to the smaller suitcase of the two that the bellboy had brought up for them. "I brought some of your clothing. I assumed you wouldn't be picky, so I grabbed a little of everything."

Jess didn't respond let alone acknowledge her. Instead, she quickly grabbed a sweater and pair of leggings from the case before heading straight to the bathroom too large for any ordinary person.

The rest of the day passed with Jess ordering room service and mindlessly watching TV for several hours. The food and dessert was surprisingly mediocre, but she wasn't going to complain. Like she'd told Renee at the precinct, she'd certainly had worse. At the same time, Lora spent a lot of time on the phone, pacing across the hotel room or going out into the hall. Jess had a feeling it had something to do with her case. Maybe she was also telling her work that her mischievous niece had forced her to travel to Gotham of all places.

Lora then announced that evening that she was leaving to meet a friend for dinner. Jess couldn't tell if she was lying or just purposely being vague, but at least she was going to have time to herself. Of course, her aunt didn't forget to instruct her to stay at the hotel and "not wander off to dawdle." Whatever that meant.

Despite not having slept at all for almost 24 hours, she couldn't manage to get her brain to shut up when she crawled into bed around nine. Her legs felt restless beneath the heavy sheets, almost as restless as her mind that was running a mental marathon. When she was still wide awake thirty minutes later, she gave up. Jess slipped on a pair of sneakers and grabbed the spare room key she'd hidden between the mattress and the bed frame. (Lora had intentionally kept both key cards but obviously didn't know her niece could easily snatch one when she wasn't looking.)

The city had gotten significantly colder now that night had fallen. The oversized sweater was barely enough to shield her skin from the wind chill on the hotel roof, but it was too late to go back down and get her hoodie. Sucking in a breath and wrapping her arms around herself, Jess made her way to the edge. She could see Gotham and its lights better from here, cars honking and people bustling in the streets hundreds of feet below. The view had been nice from the room, but it was different when there was a glass wall separating you from the real experience. Up here, she could hear and smell everything, could feel the slightly annoying yet welcoming night air. The sky wasn't quite black, but it was definitely dark; looking up at it made her feel like it would swallow her up into oblivion.

If such a thing was possible, maybe she wouldn't have minded.

She'd never really been afraid of heights. She never got nervous like her peers did, climbing ropes in gym class and looking down at her classmates or getting too close to a balcony at the mall on the fourth floor. Yet now, as she inched closer to the edge of the building, faint tingles were shooting up through her legs. Jess had never tried bungee jumping, zip-lining, or any of those sports that required launching yourself into thin air with just a harness between you and death. Vaguely, she wondered if soaring above the city would be as exhilarating.

"You're not actually thinking of jumping, are you?"

The voice startled her, causing her to step back from the edge and whip around. Robin was leaning against one of the large roof vents several feet away, his arms and ankles crossed as he watched her from behind his mask. Jess was too bewildered to respond; her heart rate had spiked, and it took a couple moments to get over the fact that _the_ Robin was standing right in front of her.

But why?

He was waiting patiently, hood over his head to shield himself from the wind blowing behind him. Jess looked over at the spot where she'd been standing and gazing into the streets, then back at him. "No. I was just... thinking."

She would have asked how he'd found her, but it was probably a stupid question. If anything, she was a little embarrassed that he'd thought she would jump.

"Do you always think on rooftops? I thought they only did that in movies." It was hard to tell whether he was joking, especially when his tone was nothing short of flat.

"Not really. Honestly, I just needed some air," Jess answered with a shrug. Then, she countered, "Do you always scare random strangers when they're thinking on the edge of rooftops?"

He returned the shrug. "No. If they scared so easily and ended up falling, I'd have to try and save them."

"Even if you don't know for sure that you'd catch them or that you yourself would make it?"

She wasn't quite sure why she asked, and the masked young man tilted his head, seemingly also curious.

"Yes," he replied. "I would think most people's first reaction would be to do the same."

There was a series of car honks from below, pulling Jess from the strange conversation they were having. Looking up at Robin, she couldn't help but wonder how old he was. At first glance and from what she could tell with all the gear he was wearing, maybe he was in his early twenties. But then again, she'd heard years ago that Batman had run with heroes as young as teenagers.

_She_ was a teenager, and look at what she was doing with her life instead.

A gust of wind blew her hair across her face. Lora definitely hadn't packed any basic necessities like hair ties. Pulling at the strands to tuck them behind her ear, she turned back to Robin. "So... are you here because of what happened last night?"

"I'm not here to scold you for lying to us if that's what you're wondering." He readjusted his stance, uncrossing his ankles and turning to lean his back against the vent. Now he was facing the buildings across the street, taking in the view Jess had previously been checking out. "I'm here to see how you're doing."

She couldn't have concealed her astonishment if she tried. Looking over at her when she didn't respond, Robin said, "Don't tell me you're surprised."

"I'm not... it's just..."

_Like he'd believe you're not surprised when you're stuttering like this._

Jess took a deep breath. "I think I'm okay," she finally answered.

Maybe she wasn't necessarily shocked; she just hadn't quite expected to hear something so... kind. It would have made perfect sense for Batman and Robin to seek her out and ask why she'd help the gang set them up. So hearing instead that the younger hero wanted to know how she was feeling despite all of that...

Nope. There was no way she was going to start getting emotional in front of him either.

Another gust of wind blew right in her face, making her blink rapidly. She used the opportunity to wipe at her watery eyes with the end of her sleeve as if dust had gotten in them.

Clearing her throat, Jess shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I shouldn't have lied to you. I didn't want to, but I... I wasn't very good at telling them 'no' in the first place. But I know that's no excuse."

"But you turned them in. You turned yourself in. I suppose that makes up for it."

Jess gave a weak smile. "I think you and I both know there's a lot more to make up for."

"Odd" was probably the most accurate word for this encounter. Never in her life had she thought she'd be on a rooftop, having a conversation with one of Gotham's famed heroes. Just the idea of seeing any of them in person had always seemed like something she would never experience. Previously, the closest she'd been to the heroes you saw on TV was the one time she'd walked down the same street as the Flash in Central City when he'd apprehended one of the Rogues. CCPD had set up a perimeter, and she didn't get so much as a glance of the red suit.

Here she stood now, mere feet away from Robin. They were close enough that she could see the city lights reflecting off the black and gold 'R' on his chest. But then again, there was a reason why she was in this position to begin with.

Robin only gave a nod, but she wasn't sure if it was in agreement. A beat of silence passed until he turned his head to the side like he'd heard something. Pushing himself off the vent, he said, "I have to go." He hesitated before continuing, "Good luck with... everything."

When he turned and took a few steps towards the side of the building, Jess called out, "Wait."

Robin paused, half-turning to look back at her.

"Why did you trust me? The other night, I mean."

He glanced out towards the street before meeting her gaze again. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?"

Jess nodded without hesitation.

"I didn't. Batman did."

With that, the young hero walked away and practically stepped off the roof into thin air, leaving her standing alone on the rooftop and shivering in the night wind.


	7. Like Father, Like Son

_"You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in our own eyes."_

_~ Walter M. Schirra, Sr._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Like Father, Like Son**

"_Do you have any kids?"_

Despite the fact that he'd been a public figure for a majority of his life, it was a question he'd received too many times to count easily on both hands. Granted, he'd made efforts to avoid prying glimpses into his personal life, _especially_ when it came to his family, from the media and other gossip-hungry hounds. Of course, that didn't stop partygoers, nosey businessmen, and Gothamites alike from dropping such questions when within a few feet of the billionaire, emboldened by public spaces and a desire to have a conversation with him.

Still, Bruce Wayne would answer, "Yes," and nine out of ten times, they would follow up with "How many?"

How many children did he have?

He could tell them six, and it would be true, or he could tell them one, and that would be true as well; it all depended on whether the person asking cared about adoption papers or sharing blood. When Dick was still young, his answer had always been that he had one child, and the technicality of the matter when it came to whether Dick was _legally_ his child held no weight. The last several years had changed that answer, and had anyone been paying attention, perhaps they would have wondered who the lucky gal was having all this offspring with _the_ Bruce Wayne.

And if they paid attention _well,_ they'd understand the man simply had a soft spot for taking in these children, though he wasn't sure he'd describe it that way.

In fact, Bruce hadn't quite dived into what made him so vulnerable when it came to misguided or lost kids that needed looking after, and it was safe to say that likely had something to do with "Bruce" and "self-reflection" not usually going in the same sentence. He'd never given it much thought, too caught up in the day and night that were his two lives and watching all the faces he'd considered his children grow older. One by one — or all at once, which was how it felt sometimes — they'd parted ways, gone down their own paths and into their own futures, away from the cave, from the manor, from him. Yet, that was how families worked though, wasn't it? People started out alone, in relationships or not, had children they raised for years that went by too fast, then those children grew up and left home, ultimately leaving the parents alone again.

What was once a manor full of bustling and loving kids now had nearly returned to what it had been decades ago, a house too big for Bruce and Alfred. All it would take is Damian's departure.

Damian.

Sitting in his computer chair in the cave, dressed from the neck down in his gear, Bruce knew his only blood son was hiding something from him. The 18-year-old may have learned to hide his emotions well, but he was _his son_, and Bruce wasn't that oblivious. Not all the time anyway. But the teen's latest attitude was something complex and more deeply layered than Bruce had assumed it was from the beginning. It was natural for the two of them to disagree when it came to everyday life as well as Batman-and-Robin life, but the way Damian had been acting in regards to their most recent case was peculiar.

Behaviorally, he was more... bitter. He'd been smiling less and leaving the manor more often. Nothing in his physical health seemed out of the ordinary, so Bruce had ruled out any outrageous possibilities that his son had suddenly taken a liking to street drugs or strange substances. So what was it that made Damian particularly upset with the case involving Jessica Fairchild?

The thought of the teenage girl had him clicking away at his computer. An internet browser window popped up, revealing the uploaded video he had been watching just minutes before falling into deep thought. According to the time stamp, the footage was three years old, and whomever had recorded it hadn't done the greatest job. Through the frequent shakiness and blurry focus, Bruce could see a younger Jessica on an ice rink, gliding back and forth and jumping and twirling in a bold, sparkly blue outfit. The seats were filled, and there were skaters of all ages at the sidelines, all sporting their own performative attire and eagerly awaiting their turn. Poor audio quality aside, he could hear the modern ballad playing in the background, accompanying the routine Jessica was putting on.

The number was over within a few minutes, the young girl striking her last pose and eliciting cheers and applause from the woman behind the camera. A quick swivel of the lens and Ian Fairchild's grinning face could be seen for a brief moment as his wife attempted to catch his reaction. The video ended moments later.

In addition to discovering that figure skating had been part of her life since she was very young, Bruce had found out more about her hobbies and lifestyle. Not only had Jessica been on the ice to twirl and spin, but she'd also been on it to wear heavy gear and fight over a hockey puck. Two contrasting sports on the same turf, and she'd seemingly loved it for years. There were plenty of poorly-recorded videos and photos and mentions of her name in rosters for Central City's local youth sports teams and their games.

The girl who'd stood terrified in front of him at the old warehouse a week ago had been a runaway, unable to gather the courage to turn her life around. She'd spent too much time struggling to cope all the while having no one to support her through it. And just before her parents had died, she'd been a perfectly normal teenager doing perfectly normal things, attending school, making friends, doing sports...

The death of one's parents certainly took its toll on the kids it left behind, didn't it?

As Bruce closed the browser window, he heard footsteps approaching, followed by a "Master Damian is out on patrol by himself?"

Alfred set the plate he'd been carrying on Bruce's desk, just off to the side. A neatly-cut rectangle of lasagna sat steaming on it. (Only Alfred could make lasagna elegantly messy.)

"I asked him to do something while I met with the commissioner. He seems to prefer patrolling on his own anyway."

"I would agree with that if it weren't so obvious you two have been avoiding each other lately," the butler responded with a raised brow. The abrupt observation was nothing unusual coming from Alfred, but it was unsolicited nonetheless. "Are you sure you aren't purposefully putting distance between you and Master Damian?"

"Damian is capable of handling –"

"I didn't question his ability to handle patrol on his own, Sir."

An audible sigh left Bruce's mouth as he sat back in his chair and met Alfred's inquisitive gaze. "I'm giving him space," he admitted after a moment. "I don't want to push him. He should come to me when he's ready to discuss what he's going through."

"Need I remind you he is your son, therefore he takes after you in more ways than you may realize, including, but not limited to, brooding, discussing feelings, and a lack of initiative in serious conversation?"

Leave it to Alfred to point out the obvious when Bruce was either too ignorant or completely oblivious to it. A point was made, although this wasn't the first time someone had commented on Damian's likeness to his father. It should have _helped_ Bruce determine what he was going through or how to approach him about it, especially considering he'd experienced this before with all the other children as they'd gone and grown up.

But Damian was unique; he was reserved, hardened, smart, tenacious, fiercely loving and loyal to those who knew him well... he was his _blood_ son.

Every one of his children's journey from adolescence into adulthood had been different, and Bruce knew it would be naive to think he could use blanket solutions each time.

"I can't tell if he's upset with me or about something else. It's been a long time since he's acted this way..." He was just thinking aloud now, his gaze gravitating toward nothing in particular across the cave. Damian's emotional intelligence and behavior had certainly evolved through his teen years, though they'd never lost that characteristic maturity that spanned years beyond his age. He was still _Damian_, but the older Wayne had taken notice of his abilities to get along a little better with his siblings and come off less... blunt, to put it simply.

They'd still managed to work well as Batman and Robin for many years now, and this sudden pushback from his son was feeling a bit out of left field.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

A twinkle lit up in Alfred's eyes as he turned on his heel and began to walk away. At the same time, another set of footsteps alerted Bruce to someone else's presence, and he turned in his chair to see Damian returning from his night. The teen removed his mask and gloves, silently, on his way to the case where his suit always hung.

Alfred's back disappeared from view, and Bruce heaved a mental sigh. He could practically see the man smiling to himself.

"Damian."

"Father."

Bruce's fingers drummed a few times against his knee. "How did it go?" Start with safe questions first, right?

"Nothing unusual or eventful happened," his son responded, his back still half-turned as he fiddled with the clasp of his hooded cape. Bruce could hear a tightness in his voice. "I paid a visit to Jessica Fairchild like you asked."

"Thank you for doing that. What did she have to say?"

"She was standing at the edge of a rooftop when I found her."

He barely had a moment to try and quiet the alarm sounding off in his head when Damian continued, "Don't worry. She wasn't going to do anything rash." The teen paused, then added, "At least, that's what she told me. Not quite sure I can believe her after everything that happened."

Damian had always kept his guard up when it came to most people. It'd taken a lot of time and patience for people like Dick, Tim, and the others to win over his trust, especially when he'd still been a child and new to the manor and Bruce's life. If Bruce was correct, Damian's circle of trust and loyalty was still small to this day. At least he hadn't needed to teach him that.

Alfred's earlier words echoed in his head as he watched his son hang up his cape. _"He takes after you in more ways than you may realize..."_

"You have every right not to trust her," Bruce tried, wondering if he could ease into the subject. "But you've trusted me through this whole case, Damian."

"No, I didn't." Damian met his gaze from across the room. There was a small smudge of dirt on his jaw, evidence of his night out. "I simply followed your direction despite my reservations. You were operating on a hunch, Father, and while you usually turn out to be right, this entire case was a coin toss."

Before Bruce could consider an appropriate response, the teen was going on. "We should have split up. What if they hadn't tried to leave her behind? Or, if they had, what if she had decided to run rather than call GCPD?" Annoyance laced his voice as it rose, and the lines between his brows only further confirmed his frustration.

"We take these chances every night we're out there." Wearing the cowl had taught him many things, and recognizing multiple outcomes and the possibility of situations going sideways was one of them. Bruce had known before stepping foot in the museum that it was likely the girl had been lying, that they could only know so much about the situation before going in. Damian should have known that, too.

"It was a chance you shouldn't have taken."

"Even though it worked out in the end?"

The question seemed to hang suspended in the air between the two Waynes as they stared at each other, unmoving. Nostalgia greeted Bruce, reminding him of the days he and his preteen son would challenge one another just like this, and he would ask himself how he'd managed to produce one of the world's most stubborn children.

_Like father, like son._

"It worked out only because they decided they had no use of her anymore, and she took the opportunity to have her revenge." The way he broke the eye contact, how his voice had lowered in volume... Bruce could tell even he wasn't confident in his comeback but had wanted to say something rather than nothing at all. Silence would have suggested his defeat in their argument.

Heaven forbid Damian Wayne roll over after a loss or being bested in a debate, fight, anything at all.

He proceeded with removing his gear, revealing the compression shirt and pants he usually wore underneath. The Robin persona was gone and now he was merely Damian, walking across the cave in sneakers towards the exit that would lead into the manor, having assumed the conversation was over. The changing into "normal" clothing from gear was something Bruce and all the others had done countless times, and even then, at that moment, he could see how much the teen had grown up, how the two identities had molded together yet were easily swapped out by the simple wardrobe change. Robin was Damian as Damian was to Robin, and they were both so much older than he sweared he'd remembered. They were one and the same and the same as his son, as Robin had always been his child.

But Batman and Bruce were getting older, too, another reminder that life was hinting at the inevitable.

"There's something bothering you." The words came out with a hint of hesitation.

Damian halted in his tracks, taking a moment perhaps to compose himself before turning completely around and crossing his arms. Those lines between his brows had reappeared, giving him a concentrating look that he'd always worn since he was a child, relieved usually by rare bouts of laughter and joy. "There are many things that bother me —"

"There is something outside of this particular case bothering you." Bruce was quick to make the correction.

The teen lifted his head slightly to meet his eyes, jaw working as he contemplated an answer. "I think you're mistaken," he finally replied. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, another indication of uncertainty, or something like it, to Bruce.

"And I think you're lying."

Immediately, he regretted the response, watching his son's sharp, green eyes narrow at the accusation. Backtracking, Bruce shook his head and followed up, "You can talk to me, Damian. It feels like you've been hiding something from me. You don't have to do that."

"Hiding something from you? Says my father who was never absolutely clear with his intentions for this case from the beginning. It was just a few days ago that you asked me to trust you, and despite your secrecy, I always have."

"You know my intentions are always the same when I put on this suit."

"Not when there's a child to save," Damian deadpanned.

Was that truly what was upsetting him? The desire to bring justice had been strong with him since childhood, yet something about this particular instance felt _off_. Bruce sifted through his memories of the last several years, hoping to fall upon another time when Damian had felt so strongly about something.

"Is it Jessica who upsets you?" he decided to ask.

Damian didn't quite roll his eyes but shook his head. "You couldn't be more wrong. I couldn't care less about a juvenile delinquent."

Frustration bit at Bruce's nerves, so he forced himself to pause and take a deep breath. "Then explain to me –"

"I have nothing to explain. I'm just disappointed with the way this case was handled. That's all."

_How very Bruce of you._

"Damian…"

"Good night, Father."

And just like that, he was retreating again, Bruce having been unable to find any combination of words that could have gotten his son to pause long enough to open up to him. He was alone in the cave now with nothing but more questions and thoughts marinating in his mind. You would think he had years of practice, starting with Dick and their adventures, good and bad, through the ups and downs, but children and human beings in general were purely too fickle and volatile. Parenting, in all its pride and joy and grievances, was just as unpredictable.

With what was probably the fifth sigh he'd made that night, Bruce reached for the lasagna that had already gotten cold beside him.

_Teenagers._

* * *

**Note: **ah, so i think i'm going to try writing longer chapters... maybe. perhaps. i dunno, i'm in a funk trying to get things going but at a realistic and reasonable pace for the characters, and i tend to overthink a lot when i plan and write. on that note, i know i said i'd update every week but honestly setting that goal may have already been a mistake LOL because obviously longer chapters means needing more time to write them.

anywho, thanks as always for the reads, follows, favorites, etc.!


	8. Coffee with a Side of Karma

_"Run, running like a fool_

_Never win if you never lose_

_Find hope and a little truth_

_Wanna learn new tricks, gotta jump through hoops"_

_~ Sabrina Carpenter, "White Flag"_

* * *

**Chapter 8: Coffee with a Side of Karma**

"What on _earth_ did you do to your hair?"

Lora's eyes nearly bugging out of her skull was an amusing sight, and Jess had to bite back the urge to laugh. She'd already known her aunt wouldn't approve of her impulsive decision to dye her locks an unconventional color, but nothing would have prepared her for the cartoonish look of horror and stupor on the woman's face.

"I dyed it," she answered matter-of-factly as she stood at the bottom of the staircase with two suitcases on the shiny, hardwood floor.

"You dyed it _blue._" Lora's tone was thick with incredulity.

The teen remained silent, watching her struggle to process the fact that her niece's whole head was now a bold shade of indigo from root to tip, all twenty inches of it. She could practically see the gears turning in Lora's head as she wrestled with the idea that, between yesterday afternoon when they'd last seen each other and this morning, Jess had managed to do something so unexpected.

It was like she'd woken up with blue _skin_ with the way the woman was reacting.

Her hand went up to rub at her face tiredly before swatting it in the air, like she could just wave away the nightmare. "Never mind. Just… get in the car."

Lips twitching into the smallest of smiles, Jess wheeled the suitcases out the front door of the house and to the luxury car waiting in the driveway. Sporting unnatural hair colors wasn't new to her, not after she'd left her aunt's for good last year. In the months following, she'd experimented with bleach first, trying out blonde for a little while before slapping on purple, then pink dye. Most of it had to do with changing her appearance to evade anyone looking for her—although, she'd always doubted her aunt was _actually_ trying to find her—but at the same time, there was something therapeutic and melodramatic about making such spontaneous decisions when life was just kicking your ass.

Besides, Lora was no longer going to be responsible for Jess, at least for the summer, so the teen felt even less inclined to do anything that she would have deemed appropriate or within her rules—not that she'd felt all that willing in the first place. It was one of the handful of consequences Gotham's juvenile court judge had ordered after her first and only hearing a few weeks ago. The two of them hadn't stayed in the city for more than a few days after the library incident, having had her arraignment and then been granted permission to return to Central City until the hearing. In spite of Jess's initial thoughts, Lora had found a lawyer through her professional network, one who had done his best to gain the teen the most reasonable and rehabilitative punishments that would keep her out of juvie.

That meant a plea agreement constituting many hours of community service, probation, and out-of-home placement, none of which Jess had ever done before. Apparently, the judge had (accurately, in her eyes) determined it would be a good idea to remove Jess from Lora's care and see how much better she fared in another environment. Cue the decision to be fostered with a new family or live with other juveniles in a shelter, and Jess had chosen the latter.

Her reasoning was simple: she wasn't really fond of the idea that she'd have to find a place within a family of strangers. The last time she had taken that chance, she'd gone and made a lot of mistakes, then they'd turned around and rejected her without warning.

And here she was.

The charges against her were burglary, theft-larceny, and assault and battery, terms that she'd never before thought sounded as frightening as they did now. She had her young age, the decision to turn in Jax and the gang, as well as no actual murders working in her favor, but it hardly seemed like a silver lining in the mess she'd gotten into. People had still gotten hurt _by her hands_… that in itself felt unforgivable.

_"But you turned them in. You turned yourself in. I suppose that makes up for it."_

Though the whole conversation had lingered on her mind for a while, it was that particular sentiment from Robin that stood out. Runner-up was the fact that he'd shown up to check on her wellbeing, something she'd added to her list of things she never expected to happen. Another mental list she'd written was of questions she wanted to ask him, about why Batman had trusted her and he didn't, why she'd been given a chance when she hadn't deserved one.

But Jess had accepted that the night on the hotel rooftop was most likely the last time she would ever see him—she had no intentions of getting into anymore trouble in Gotham. Maybe she wasn't meant to know any of those answers anyway.

And if going back to her home city with Lora wasn't stressful enough, there were people in her community that had gotten word of her return. For about a whole week, they'd gotten calls from teachers, old coaches, and even local news outlets, asking if Jess was really back home, safe and sound. She'd also never once logged in to her social media accounts since running away, so when she made the mistake of doing so out of curiosity, she almost regretted it. Many of her old friends and peers had messaged or commented on her accounts, saying they hoped she was safe and would find her way home. Nearly a whole year's worth of them had piled up in her notifications, and Jess ended up deleting every single account just minutes after subjecting herself to the realization that people had actually noticed her absence.

Was it all genuine, though? Some of those who'd reached out were fellow classmates that hadn't so much as glanced in her direction, and one girl who had the audacity to voice her "worry" was a fellow figure skater she'd competed against since they were kids. Needless to say, Audrey's seemingly caring, kind words were a stark contrast to the nasty behavior she'd exhibited towards Jess for years.

But all the more reason to leave Central City again… that's what Jess was telling herself. She had no desire to reconnect with anyone, not when they would just shove their noses into her business and ask questions she didn't want to answer. Her old life didn't feel welcoming, and it felt even emptier without her parents. Spending the summer in Gotham, a city where no one besides its caped heroes knew about Jessica Fairchild, was going to be her chance to find herself again, to start anew and get her shit together. It had to be.

Besides, it wasn't like she had much of a choice. The judge had been adamant about Jess doing her rehabilitation in the very city she'd committed her crimes, which made more than enough sense.

The airport wasn't very busy on a weekday morning. Lora pulled into an empty spot at the curb near the sign naming the airlines Jess was flying on, and that was when the teen became aware that she had to say goodbye. Her thoughts had previously been occupied with what she could look forward to upon arriving back in Gotham, what other teens she would meet and where she would be assigned to complete community service hours. But now she was pulling the two suitcases from the trunk of the car—Lora was standing off to the side, unhelpful, with her arms crossed—and setting them on the sidewalk, wary of what could be an awkward exchange of words.

Jess had no idea how her aunt felt about her leaving her care, but she wouldn't have put it past her to be relieved.

_I mean, I know _I _am._

"Your probation officer will update me each time she checks in with you," Lora suddenly said as she stepped towards the car.

Did she really believe Jess didn't already know this, or was this the only thing she could think to say?

"And as long as the report is good, I'll continue paying for your phone bill."

The urge to roll her eyes was strong, but Jess bit her tongue to keep herself from giving away how she felt about the comment. She honestly couldn't have cared less that Lora had bought her a brand new phone since it was probably just a way to make sure she could get a hold of her (or keep track of her since that kind of parental surveillance existed nowadays). There were no other phone numbers in it besides hers and the probation officer's, none else that belonged to any "friends" that she had.

"Alright," was all Jess said, reaching for the handles of her suitcases.

Lora looked as if she were about to say something, her mouth opening for the briefest of moments before she closed it. Then she opened the driver's side door, saying, "Stay out of trouble," before getting in.

_Don't need to tell me twice_.

* * *

The temporary shelter facility turned out to be much more homely than Jess had anticipated. The few pictures available online hadn't made it appear necessarily _bad_, but her expectations had been... a little low. It housed up to only thirty kids who were seventeen and younger, and while that number had seemed low at first, showing up in person cleared up the confusion she'd had.

Most of the children shared rooms like roommates. The younger ones occupied the biggest rooms, their beds aligned neatly against the colorful walls, and older kids were two or three to a moderately-sized bedroom. The design and aesthetic of the facility wasn't high-end by any means, but Jess didn't need the names of sponsors hung up on a banner in the lobby to tell her Gotham had definitely invested in it. Along with polished, linoleum floors and freshly-painted walls, there was a security system complete with key card access at the first few sets of doors leading from the front of the building further in to all the sleeping quarters, kitchen, counseling center, and all the other amenities the place offered.

"Impressed?"

The staff person who had greeted her, checked her in, and was giving her a tour grinned at Jess as she waited for the teen to finish admiring the backyard, complete with a small swing set, basketball court, and some school playground equipment. High, concrete walls surrounded the entire area with security cameras propped up every several yards, and beyond that was what looked like dense forest. A few kids were climbing all over the equipment with shouts and squeals of joy, their innocent faces grinning or imitating pirate scowls. Two staff members stood by, watching with bemused looks.

"I... yeah, I am," Jess admitted with a small laugh. "It's like... a hotel for kids."

The middle-aged woman with short, salt-and-pepper hair, Gina, returned the chuckle and shrugged. "We do our best to make this place as comfortable as possible for all the children who come through here. It's especially important that it allows all of you to thrive and grow. Nothing good would come from a 7-year-old or even a 17-year-old like yourself to live here and feel like you're in a prison."

With a wave of her hand, she motioned for Jess to follow her back inside, mentioning that her new room would be the end of the tour. It was in the same hall where other teens slept, the walls adorned with lively paintings and photos of sunny, cheerful images. There were two twin beds in her assigned room, and judging by the one that had half-made sheets with a few pairs of sneakers at the foot, she already had a roommate. A single poster was hung up on that side of the room, and when Jess's gaze landed on it, she had to stare.

The digital print of cool, dark shades of blue, grey, and black were painted this way and that to form none other than Batman himself, posing on top of some indistinct Gotham building. Whomever had drawn this had captured the presence of rain and a midnight-blue sky riddled with clouds. Sharp, edgy text at the bottom spelled out "BATMAN" in large letters.

"Misty is out right now, but she should be back soon," Gina was saying, appraising the room. "She's 16, a little bit younger than you."

Jess's two suitcases were already in the corner near the unoccupied bed and dresser, waiting to be unpacked. A small window had its blinds pulled open, revealing the iron bars set on the inside of the glass. Gina's earlier comment about not wanting the children to feel like they were in prison passed through Jess's mind, but she paid no attention to it; the bars were most likely part of the facility's safety and security measures.

"I'll let you get settled in. Dinner was served about an hour ago, but there's usually always leftovers, so feel free to grab some." Another gentle smile, then she was gone, disappearing through the door.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jess crossed the room to grab the suitcases and began busying herself with the clothes and necessities she'd packed. As silly as it sounded, the Batman poster was slightly disturbing, but maybe that was just because of her previous experience with the dark knight. She could've sworn the dark gaze drawn by the artist was lingering on her, _judging_ her, as she moved to and fro in the room, organizing her clothing and checking out the small bathroom across the hall.

Some time later, most of her belongings still sat on the grey comforter since the dresser was already holding Misty's clothing (lots of black with occasional color). Perhaps she hadn't been alerted to Jess's arrival, but it was no matter; she'd ask her for additional space whenever she arrived.

"Sick hair color."

On cue, a low, breathy voice jolted Jess from her thoughts, causing her to turn on the bed and look towards the door. A girl stood there, chewing on the end of a Twizzler, her heavy eyes drilling right into her. Raven-black, shoulder-length hair stood out against her olive skin, but the faded, pink ends offered a pop of color against the black sweater and jeans she wore. Winged, black eyeliner carved out her dark eyes, adding to the edgy character that Jess could only assume was Misty.

"Thanks," she offered with a small smile, watching the girl drop her backpack (black, again) onto her bed.

"Permanent or semi-permanent?"

Jess's brows knitted together, but she understood the question a second later. "Semi."

"Favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Should've guessed that. But what _kind_ of blue?"

"Um... usually lighter shades."

"Favorite number?"

"I... don't have one." The lilt at the end of her sentence made it sound more like a question.

"Vanilla or chocolate?"

"Depends."

"Favorite superhero?"

Pausing longer than she had for the other rapid-fire questions, Jess's eyes flickered towards the poster, a reflexive gesture that Misty noticed and deemed an answer.

"Nice choice."

Jess didn't have the heart to correct her and say she didn't really have a "favorite."

Her new roommate bit off another portion of the Twizzler as she eyed Jess again, something like a mischievous gleam in her gaze.

"I think we're gonna get along just fine."

* * *

Gotham's May weather was a bearable spring-to-summer transition of 50 to 60 degrees and partially-cloudy skies. The sun hid behind bunches of grey cotton, and the air was relatively warm on her skin as Jess walked through downtown, glancing every now and then at the map on her phone. Her probation officer had instructed her to meet at a breakfast diner in the Fashion District, which was only a few blocks from the shelter facility. Instead of taking a cab, she'd decided to walk, hoping to take the opportunity to sightsee—as much as one _could _sightsee in a place like Gotham.

Not knowing what exactly lay ahead of her for the day, Jess had thrown on high-waisted mom jeans with a t-shirt tucked in and a pair of high-top, black Converse. It was a nice change from the sweaters and hoodies she'd always worn when running around with Jax and the others. Hands reaching up for the third time that morning to adjust her ponytail, she spotted the sign for the diner just up ahead. Passersby barely gave her a glance as she weaved between them, looked left and right, then crossed the street.

The aromas of coffee, baked goods, and other breakfast items greeted her as she pushed open the door, a jingle of the bells at the top signaling her presence. Most of the customers occupying the leather booths and small tables were older, an unsurprising sight considering it was about nine in the morning on a Thursday. The loudest noise came from a family with two children in the corner, the toddler screeching comical, unintelligible words at his older sister. Behind the long counter was a waitress calling orders to the cooks in the back, hisses of cooking oil nearly drowning out her voice.

A middle-aged woman with long, blonde hair was raising a hand at her from her seat in a booth. Though Jess had only seen what Erin looked like once during their video conference call several days ago, she recognized her immediately. Kind, blue eyes framed by slight crow's feet took her in as she sat down across from her, noting the two steaming cups of coffee waiting on the table.

"I wasn't sure if you're a coffee drinker, but I took a guess," Erin began with a smile. "I know you already know, but I'm Erin."

"Jess." The teen returned the smile before glancing down at the cup and then back up at her. "And I am, actually, thanks," she added shyly.

But she wasn't a _black_ coffee drinker; luckily, there were packets of sugar and a small bowl of creamer cups at the end of the table. Jess reached for them as the woman started to speak again.

"You didn't have blue hair earlier this week." The corner of her mouth lifted in another smile, relieving Jess from the assumption that she was judging her.

"I guess I just needed a change," she responded casually, keeping her gaze on the coffee and watching as the creamer colored it caramel.

Erin nodded. "Change is good... and speaking of change, let's review what the judge has put in place for you so you can start transitioning back into a law-abiding citizen." She threw Jess another smile before continuing.

"I'll make this quick so you can get started. We've already established that you're to complete at least 150 hours of community service over the next few months. You can do at least 10 but up to 20 hours per week, no more than 6 hours in a single day." An all-business tone had taken over Erin's voice as she rattled off Jess's responsibilities. "As you might remember, it's recommended, but not required, that you also find an easy, paying job—serve coffee, mow some lawns, whatever. You'll just need to run your choices and applications by me if you choose to do this on top of your hours.

And just like I mentioned when we last spoke, you and I will meet every two weeks to monitor your progress. I'll also be checking in with the facility and the library to ensure you're on good behavior, not stirring up trouble..."

Hot, overly sweet coffee nearly made its way up to her nose as Jess practically choked mid-sip, startling both her and Erin. After taking a moment to compose herself and carefully swallow the liquid, hoping it would go down the right pipe, she coughed into her napkin and said, "Sorry, but did you say 'the library'?"

Amusement colored the woman's features as she raised her brows, nodding. "Right, yes. The very same library where your last, ah, misdemeanor occurred."

She'd been under the impression she would get to choose where to complete her hours, but clearly, and _very unfortunately_, that wasn't the case. They'd done this on purpose, hadn't they?

The unasked question must have been evident on her face because Erin was then adding, "The judge thought it would be appropriate for you to assist them during a few big things they have happening this summer. After the incident, the city decided to relocate sections of the library and also improve their security system."

Not knowing what to say, Jess took another steady, slow drink from the cup, mulling over this new information. There was no denying that it made 100-percent, complete sense that she would work her hours at the exact place she'd helped attempt burglary.

_Karma is just really out to give me what I deserve, isn't it?_

"Matthew, the general manager, will help you sort out your hours and schedule," Erin went on, probably realizing Jess wasn't going to respond anytime soon. "He's expecting you this morning by ten."

The watch on Jess's wrist indicated she had less than an hour to conclude this meeting and make her way to the library. It was then that she realized she was really doing this... she was really about to start making up for all her wrongdoings. A sudden thought passed through her mind, and she found herself asking, "Does he know?"

Erin seemed to understand precisely what she meant. With a shake of her head, she answered, "Matthew does not know you're the teenager who was there that night. The library didn't care to know specifics—they just wanted to get started on renovations that would protect their possessions and keep it from happening again." A beat of silence passed. "And personally, I believe it's a stronger sentiment when you do something good without having to tell people about it. That's how you know it's genuine."

Jess could only nod as a wave of relief washed over her, all the anticipation that she'd receive unpleasant remarks or looks disappearing. That certainly was a guilt trip she did not want to experience. She could feel Erin's eyes on her as she downed the rest of the coffee, grimacing at the slight burn in her throat.

"Do you have any questions for me?"

In fact, she had too many to try and sort through, but the nervousness that was creeping into her bones was starting to unsettle her too much to care about getting answers. "No, not right now," Jess replied, shaking her head.

"Alright." Erin glanced at her phone before looking back at her with another smile. "I'm going to head to another meeting. You have my number if you need anything." The two of them bade their goodbyes after she laid a few bills down to pay for the coffee.

About twenty minutes later, the blue-haired teen was standing at the bottom of the library's front steps, neck craned upward as she evaluated the outside of the building, not having seen what it looked like in the daylight. The whole walk here, her feet had felt like lead, itching to turn around and run in the opposite direction, yet Jess had worked to control the anxiety building in her chest, telling herself over and over that everything would be okay and she was doing this for a good reason.

Cool air-conditioning blew into her face as she entered through the sets of double doors and stopped at the large front desk where an elderly woman sat, peering at her computer. After a few awkward attempts to tell her she was looking for Matthew—not the _bathroom_ or _haikus_ as her poor hearing interpreted—a balding man wearing a sweater vest and dress shirt appeared, greeting Jess with a forceful, quick handshake.

With frightening energy, he introduced himself (as Matthew, _never _Matt) and launched right into explaining the library's renovation project, never failing to mention the burglary and making Jess nod as her only means of communication. The special collections section was apparently moving across the building to a more secure area behind a key-card access door, and a large number of books were being sorted through to be sent to other libraries in the nation or donated to various organizations. According to Matthew's animated instructions, Jess was going to start out by re-shelving in the philosophy section.

"I've written some instructions to help you understand the organizational system—" he shoved a folded piece of paper into her hands as they approached the tall shelves past the hanging sign that read 'PHILOSOPHY' in capital letters "—but I _just_ remembered that we have someone who can help you if you have any questions or get too confused."

Jess trailed after him, already overwhelmed by the erratic speed and energy with which he spoke, eyes sweeping over the several carts full of books waiting to be organized. She found Matthew at the end of one of the aisles, looking down to the other end at someone she couldn't see yet.

"He's been absolutely fantastic so far—volunteers his time a few times a week, doesn't get paid or anything, which is _super_ great for us—real talented at understanding all the universal classification systems and cataloging..."

His voice sounded further away as Jess unintentionally tuned him out, gazing at the empty slots here and there between chunks of books, wondering how in the world she was going to learn to do any of this. Stopping next to Matthew, she finally followed his eyes and enthusiastic gestures to the black-haired, young man placing books in the middle of the aisle. Though she mentally kicked herself for doing so, Jess first noticed his obviously fit physique; he didn't look quite six feet tall, but the broad shoulders, lean figure, and toned arms under the black, long-sleeved sweater as he reached to slide a book in place implied he knew a thing or two about personal fitness.

Hands empty, the stranger turned to face the two of them, his cool gaze landing right on Jess and eliciting a swift rush of heat through her face. _Why was her face doing that? _It could've been a foolish figment of her imagination, but she could have sworn something in his otherwise stoic expression shifted, a minuscule change in the boyish but sculptured work of art that was his face.

Or, maybe he was just staring because of her hair.

Matthew's cheery voice jolted Jess from the moment, though it didn't quite pull her from the odd haziness her mind was suddenly swimming in.

"Jessica, I'd like you to meet Damian."

* * *

**Note: **ok so i hashed this out after a sudden burst of inspiration and once i realized i had a better idea of where i'm going with Damian and Jess, and now _finally _they're meeting, phew *cue confetti*

as for **akagami hime chan**'s question about writing in the other former Robins... YES i'm definitely planning on having more of them, including other Batfam characters, show up eventually. i currently have my greedy sight set on Jason, so... look out for him (and i mean that in more ways than one, if you get what i'm sayin)

'til next time, xx


	9. Damian

**Chapter 9: Damian**

Graduating from Gotham Academy had been a bittersweet accomplishment for Damian Wayne. Not only had he finished years of elementary education that he'd long surpassed as a child and was he no longer obligated to suffer the insolence of his peers, but that also meant he had more free time to do what he pleased. In the last year, he'd spent some time traveling across the world, assisting the Titans and League in various missions, and sometimes offering his expertise to his siblings in their respective residences—hmm, well, not to _all_ of them.

Though he'd understood that finishing high school sealed the deal for his father's wishes to experience a "normal" social life and education, it didn't seem to end there. A few times, Bruce had mentioned the prospect of college as additional means for Damian to continue normality, but the younger Wayne couldn't find it in himself to really care. Private school, although a step above public school, had already occupied eight years of his life with its boring academia and snobbish students. How would attending college, here in Gotham or elsewhere, be any different or more appealing?

But for the sake of his father's sanity, he'd gone ahead and applied to Gotham University, mostly to humor him and Dick, who'd characteristically encouraged him to "do it anyway"—and maybe Damian was curious to see what it was like to be accepted because _of course_ he would be.

And he'd been right.

None of it meant anything anyway since he currently had no desire to continue pursuing formal studies. The teen had hours and hours of learning and knowledge at his disposal just in the manor's library itself, much of which he'd already read at least once. Unfortunately, now that his assistance was no longer needed as frequently as he'd been used to, Damian had more time on his hands than what he'd ever admit he wanted. Boredom had never really been that much of an issue for him, especially since he cherished his privacy and solitude, but since things had gotten rough between him and his father, it was more important now than ever to find activities to occupy his time.

"What kind of activities?" Dick had asked weeks earlier at the other end of the phone line, failing to conceal the surprise and curiosity in his tone. "Like, _social_ activities? You sure you're okay, D?"

"Remove that insufferable smirk from your face, Grayson," Damian had retorted, imagining the older man's grin.

A snort of laughter had come through, followed by "You know me so well."

The younger Wayne had then made a point to correct the former Robin, explaining that there were plenty of things to do that didn't require interacting with _people. _He'd already been accepted to volunteer at one of Gotham's local animal shelters, where he'd spend his time behind-the-scenes with the dogs and _not_ at a counter, dealing with actual humans. And when he wasn't devoting his days and attention to precious animals, he was enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of the library and relishing the calming activity that was sorting and organizing books.

That is, until Jessica Fairchild came along.

The very first thought to come to his mind when Damian's gaze fell upon her was that her entire head was an alarming shade of blue. Of all colors, she'd chosen _that? _Although, he'd seen other teens and young adults who'd thought orange or even green was a clever color to prance around in. Still, what had driven her to do that to herself?

The next thought was merely the fleeting and startling realization that it was _Jessica Fairchild_ standing before him in all her juvenile delinquency, staring right back at him. The plain, grey t-shirt she wore was slightly wrinkled, Damian instantly noted, and her sneakers appeared to be somewhat new, the white portions still clean and not yet ruined. The minimal accessories she wore included a watch and a few mismatched rings on her fingers.

What on all earths was Jessica Fairchild doing here in—

No sooner had the question turned over in his mind than he came to several possible explanations:

First, it was simply coincidence. She was here to perform her community service hours as part of her court order, whether she'd chosen the library or it was chosen for her.

Second, his father had something to do with it. Damian couldn't recall explicitly telling him about his work at the library, but he certainly wouldn't put it past the man to have done his research and craftily arranged for the girl to be assigned here... as if he wanted Damian to _babysit_ her while she paid for her crimes. Would Bruce really go that far?

This quick analysis came and went in a matter of seconds, enough time between Matthew's introduction and Damian's simple "Hello" without the silence being long and awkward.

"Hi," was all she said with a tight-lipped smile and then a quick glance at the librarian.

"I'll leave you to it." He grinned at the both of them before his brows shot up and he added, "Oh! And I'd like you to be here for at least a few hours today, but just come see me if you decide to grab lunch so I know you're not just running off."

Jess nodded at his instructions, and Damian couldn't help noticing how poorly she was hiding her clear amazement at the man's dynamic personality. Matthew was gone before either of them could say anything, leaving the two of them to make brief eye contact and then break it.

Silently, Damian reached for the next few books on the cart next to him, eyes skimming the bindings quickly and then locating their home on the shelves. Jess seemed to hesitate, unsure of whether to speak or what to do. After a too-long moment of contemplation, she sat down cross-legged on the carpeted floor—_Why, _Damian wondered, _when there are actual chairs nearby?_—and stared down intently at the paper in her hands. He did his best not to pay her any attention, refusing to let her presence distract him from the task at hand.

But it was proving more difficult as the time passed. What had once been his corner of peace and quiet had been disturbed by her unexpected appearance, a nuisance that was nagging his conscience like a child tugging at his sleeve. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to find out precisely why she was here, and it was an itch he wouldn't be able to scratch until he spoke with his father... assuming Bruce would tell him the truth.

After re-shelving the books on the top shelf of the wheeled cart, Damian moved on to the ones on the bottom, relieved to see they belonged in the next aisle where he could distance himself from Jess. In the corner of his eye, he saw her rise to her feet and examine one of the other carts closest to her. As soon as he moved to walk around the corner, Jess's hand reached for a particular hardcover book.

"Not that one."

She yanked her hand back, spinning to look at him. "I... what?"

"That's not the right cart."

Confusion knitted her brows together as she looked at the book she'd been about to touch, then back at him.

Damian let out a sigh before approaching her and gesturing towards the cart, then to another one behind it. "I have already arranged the books by subdivision and placed the carts near the respective aisles for easy access and distribution. If you'd like to work in this section," he explained, pointing to the empty shelves behind her, "you need to start with these."

Jess's gaze had followed his gestures, but the lost, glazed look never left her face. _Am I _really _going to have to explain this to her? _"Did you understand the information Matthew gave you?" Damian inquired, eyeing the sheet of paper peeking out of her pocket.

"I _thought_ I did," she responded in a quiet voice as she unfolded and gazed down at it again, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"May I?"

She handed him the paper and he took a moment to scan it, mentally scoffing at the paragraphs, bullet points, and small graphics. Cataloging for library collections was already difficult for any normal person to learn in the first place, and Matthew's haphazardly-written guide was nothing but unhelpful. Damian was going to have to teach her... especially since the mere idea of her misplacing a single book made him anxious.

"Are you familiar at all with the Dewey Decimal classification system?"

Jess turned her gaze up towards him and shook her head. Damian suddenly became aware that this was the first time he'd seen her up close—all the other times he'd spoken with her previously, they had been at least yards apart as well as in the dark of the night. Now, with only mere feet separating them, he could see her wide, hazel eyes filled with shyness and puzzlement, perhaps even embarrassment.

"It's simple if you can understand hierarchies. Since we're focusing on philosophy and psychology, every book begins with '100' in the index. In increments, from 100 to 110, 111 to 120, and so on, are subdivisions from Generalities to Metaphysics..." Damian proceeded to describe, his tone straightforward and clear. He referenced Matthew's guide occasionally, mostly for the graphics just in case Jess was a visual learner, and summed up the classification system within a few minutes.

Taking a book from a cart, he pointed out the label taped to its spine and set it right against another one on the shelf. "Do you understand now?" _The sooner you do, the quicker I can return to my peace of mind._

When Damian turned to look at her, he was met with a hazel-colored, long and hard look filled with curiosity. Now, the younger Wayne had grown used to gazes and whispers of adoration that followed him almost everywhere, in school hallways or out in public; it was rather easy to identify a stare that was done out of attraction and just as easy to ignore it.

But the slight wrinkle between Jess's dark brows that accompanied her gaze suggested scrutiny, as if she were puzzled by something he'd done or said. Had she been paying any attention to his explanation? A brief moment passed, and he was just about to repeat himself when the girl tore her eyes away from his. Damian watched as she then examined the labels, gaze bouncing between the half-finished section on the shelf and the publications awaiting on the cart.

Two softcover books were in her hands then, sliding onto the shelf next to the one he'd just placed. Seeing their labels arranged correctly, he gave her an approving nod. Jess seemed to take on a slight air of confidence, relieved her first try had been right. Reaching for the cart again, she offered him a half-smile. "Thanks," was all she said before glancing back down at the spines of the books.

Damian handed her the sheet of instructions, raising a brow. "I'd advise you keep this. You may still need it."

She simply nodded as she took it from him, that mystified look starting to return in her eyes. Without another word, he rounded the corner of the aisle to begin working on the next cart of books, suddenly eager for his day to end.

When it finally did, he arrived home in the early evening to an enthusiastic Titus and Alfred, who greeted him as he passed through the large foyer. Hands busy scratching behind the dog's ears as he crouched at his knees, Damian looked up at the butler and asked for his father's whereabouts.

"You just missed his call. A meeting ran late, but he's on his way home."

He wasted no time making his way to the cave, Titus padding along behind him with soft pants. A few taps at the keyboard, a facial recognition scan, and vocal confirmation later, Damian was logged into the computer, falling into the familiar element of investigation, a determined hunt for answers. Eyes glazed over in concentration, the blue-white light of the screens reflecting on his face, he scoured data, files, and history for anything related to Jessica Fairchild.

The most recent pieces of information involved the juvenile court's documents as well as GCPD's case on her and the gang members. Community service hours, out-of-home placement, probation—Damian could find nothing new to him let alone a clue that would indicate his father's involvement. _Is it really a coincidence then?_

Sitting back in the chair, hand stretched out to the side for Titus, he scrutinized everything before him on the screens as if his piercing glare would pressure them into give up an answer. He _wanted _it to be coincidence, did he not? Then he would take it in stride the way he was taught to do and learn to deal with it. On the other hand, if Bruce _had_ taken it upon himself to be involved, Damian would certainly be upset. He'd feel sabotaged, manipulated, feelings that were not new to their family.

But most important of all, he would have someone to blame, and that someone would be the same person who'd already been at fault for too many mistakes lately.

"Alfred said you were looking for me."

Bruce Wayne was walking across the cave, his gaze trained curiously on his son at the computer. The tie around his neck was loose, but his suit in its entirety was clean and wrinkle-free. As he approached him and Titus, who bounded towards him in hello, Bruce then took notice of the information displayed on the multitude of computer screens but said nothing else.

Sitting up, Damian rested his elbows on the chair's arms and clasped his hands together. "Jessica Fairchild was at the library today to begin her community service hours," he said bluntly.

"And...?"

His father's brows rose, waiting for the teen to provide more context, but then they fell back into place as understanding and realization overcame his features. "I see," Bruce mused as he bent to rub Titus's head absentmindedly. "And you believe I had something to do with it because you've been spending time there as well?"

"I don't recall telling you I've been volunteering my time there." Damian's head tilted to the side, gaze leveled with the older Wayne's. "But I know you, Father."

"Then you must not know me well enough," his father countered, gaze hardening as he straightened up and crossed his arms. "I stopped monitoring Jessica's case after her hearing. The judge's orders were made by him and him only." The corners of his mouth were turned down slightly in annoyance. "We have no reason to be involved with her affairs anymore."

Jaw set in contemplation, Damian broke his stare with Bruce and watched as his dog sat on the cave floor and scratched behind his ear. Perhaps he was telling the truth, and there was no one except the universe or fate to blame.

"I understand you like your privacy—your business is your business, Damian... I also understand you weren't fond of that case with the Eastmans and the gang, so why you believe I would purposefully pull strings to bring Jessica here is beyond me."

Blue eyes remained fixated on the young assassin-turned-hero before him, watching and waiting, as the teen stood from the chair. "I just needed to know," Damian responded flatly.

"Well... now that you know I've had no part in this coincidence, what will you be doing about it?"

Damian found himself looking over at the screens again, casting his mind back to his hours at the library. Jess had only spoken to him one more time after the quick lesson, an unnecessary FYI that she was off to search for food. Of course, in her absence, he'd taken the liberty of checking the section in which she'd been shelving books—if she was doing it wrong, he obviously had to correct her before it continued—and found only a few were out of place. He'd left before she did, seeing as he wasn't obligated to fulfill any set hours in a day or week, unlike her.

Yet Damian _had _essentially given Matthew his word that he would assist the library staff for the entirety of the moving process. He supposed a request to work in another area wouldn't hurt, but he had a feeling the man would prefer Damian hung around Jess to ensure the sacred publications weren't being misplaced.

Besides, Damian Wayne did not turn the other cheek at mild inconveniences.

"Nothing," he then answered his father, standing from the chair and starting in the direction of the exit. Just as he passed him, Damian paused, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How _did_ you know I've been volunteering at the library?"

Bruce appraised his son's face for a moment before responding, "Dick told me." At the teen's eye roll, he added, "Don't blame him, Damian. You know how he is... He thinks it's great you're finding hobbies outside of patrol and the manor."

"Shelving library books and tending to animals are hardly hobbies—"

"But you enjoy them, don't you?"

Damian didn't look away from Bruce's patient stare, lifting his head slightly as if to stand his ground. "I do."

"Good. I'm glad."

Something unspoken lingered after the words left Bruce's mouth, a brief hesitation that made the two of them pause as they stood there in the cave. There was only the slight panting from Titus to fill the space, but the moment ended too soon before it could mean anything. Damian forced his feet to move then, motioning for Titus to follow. Ever since that one night his father had tried to confront him, their exchanges had been more or less the same as this one, laced with subtle tension and awkward uneasiness. Bruce hadn't made another effort to weasel his thoughts and feelings from him, one of the wiser decisions he'd made in Damian's eyes. The younger Wayne's only intentions for the moment were to continue enjoying his time as he could; he would address the unspoken desires later... but for now, they sat on the shelf.

"In all fairness, you didn't ask me to _not _tell Bruce."

Damian narrowed his eyes at the video feed on his laptop, evoking an exaggerated sigh from his oldest brother as the man caught the glare.

"I know, I know. I should've known better," Dick added dismissively, lowering his phone as he walked around his home and giving Damian a comical upward view of his nose. There was a brief moment of static and shuffling noises as he brought the device back up to peer at the screen.

Damian opened his mouth in reply, but Dick continued on, seriousness creeping into his tone. "But I'm not all that dense, you know. Something tells me the reason you're hung up on him knowing what you're up to is more than just you treasuring privacy."

"I have nothing to discuss with him," Damian interjected quickly. _At least for now. _"Not yet."

Dick raised his brows. "And that's fine, Damian. It's just..." His blue eyes darted away from the phone as he considered his words and then back. "It's not really fair for you to act out towards him without giving him an explanation. He doesn't know what he did wrong or why you're angry."

"I'm not 'angry'—"

"You're _something, _and it's obviously affecting you and Bruce more than you think."

Taking a slow, deep breath, Damian crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, in turn moving away from the laptop on the desk. On his screen, Dick had set his phone down somewhere in the kitchen, the camera pointed toward him as he took a moment to open the fridge and poke around.

If what he'd said was true, Damian had no room to be surprised. Between the two of them, Dick was undoubtedly the most perceptive one, especially when it came to the complicated ethos of human minds and relationships. He'd acted somewhat as a sounding board for Damian's romantic endeavors while the teen traversed through the adventure that was his adolescence, though that was a mere fragment of the support and friendship Dick had offered him for the last several years... much more than Damian sometimes thought he deserved.

"Tell you what," the older man began as he turned back to the phone with iced coffee in his hand, "let's hang out when I come visit for next weekend. Kori and Mar'i are going to some summer camp, so I'm going to be all by my lonesome for a few weeks. I'll make up for my big mouth by letting you win a game at the arcade."

With an eye roll, Damian answered, "Do I have to remind you that if you ever do win, it's because _I _let you?"

"No, you don't, and now I'm hurt that you did."

"Weakling."

"Aha! There's the Damian I know and love."

* * *

Damian was unlike anyone she'd ever met.

He couldn't have been much older than Jess—bodily physique aside, his facial features were still rounded by youth that he hadn't yet outgrown—but something about him radiated _maturity_ with a hint of something like arrogance, a combination that should have been intimidating. Frankly, Jess was far from put off by him; it was more like she was... intrigued.

All the fellow classmates from years past who lived and breathed debate, politics, public speaking, and everything in between didn't have a single thing over the black-haired stranger whose normal speaking voice was crafted from eloquence and formality. Jess quickly got used to his unique speech, though, just by the second day they worked together. (She'd vaguely wondered every now and then what kind of background or upbringing had taught him to speak in a way that was unlike how most kids their age talked, but whatever the case, she found it to be a surprising breath of fresh air—not that she would ever say that to him.) It was just the aura of superiority that seemed to wrap around him like a protective barrier that spilled through the way he walked and the way he talked that was peculiar. Maybe she was being overly observant, on the verge of being creepy, but she'd always figured she was a decent judge of character.

_Except when it came to Beth and the others, obviously._

... Alright, so maybe her judge of character wasn't all that great. Still, Jess had thought one could tell enough about someone by the way they carried themselves.

And Damian carried himself like his presence was the most invaluable thing in the room.

Granted, he didn't walk with that weird, side-to-side "swagger" that annoying boys at her old high school had or with his nose in the air like a stereotypical snob. She couldn't quite put her finger on what made his presence so distinctive, but _it was there,_ and she wasn't sure what to think of it, even when he came off slightly brash sometimes.

"I'm vegetarian."

Jess's mouth hung open a little, nothing but empty air leaving her lips as she processed the other teen's response to her mention of meat lover's pizza in the library staff's kitchen. "Oh," she managed to say. "Sorry, I—"

"You didn't know." Damian gave the slightest of shrugs, not looking at her, before sliding a hardback book into place.

So abrupt, so dismissive, how he spoke.

Now that she'd learned he was vegetarian and it would be useless to mention the other non-vegetarian food available, courtesy of Matthew, Jess grabbed a hold of the cart of books she'd been working on and wheeled it further down the aisle, away from the section Damian had been breezing through. They'd been working like this, silently, for a few days now, exchanging words only when she had questions—she tried not to pester him too much, attempting to figure things out on her own before deciding to approach him—or when one of them was stepping away. Well, it was really only Jess doing that since Damian didn't seem to feel obligated to report his whereabouts to her, which was fine. He wasn't usually there every day let alone for more than two or three hours at most, and somehow she'd managed to survive on her own whenever she _was_ shelving away by herself.

Bringing her earbuds to listen to music had been a smart decision, too, particularly when Damian wasn't around, though it wasn't like they made small talk anyway. Jess had the sense he was a quiet person that liked to keep to himself, giving way to the idea that maybe her appearance had put a dent in his space. It was just an assumption and not one that she would bring up for fear of creating an unnecessary, awkward atmosphere—plus, she could very well be overanalyzing things when the young man hadn't even done anything to suggest he disliked her presence. Yet.

Jess examined the spines on two books before placing them in their designated spots on the shelf and stealing a glance in Damian's direction. From what she understood, he was assisting the library staff for as long as she would be, which meant several weeks of working together. Would it really hurt to try and sort of be acquaintances? The idea of maintaining this stuffy, awkward environment made her community service less appealing, especially since she was still coming to terms with the idea that Gotham was practically her new home now, at least for the summer. That meant adjusting to her surroundings, new faces, a newer life.

"Did you grow up here in Gotham?"

Her voice was quiet—they were in a library, after all—but didn't seem to startle Damian in his quick, methodic process of checking labels, scanning shelves, then placing.

"No," he responded, never removing his analytic gaze from the publications in his hands. "I arrived here nearly ten years ago."

"Do you like it here?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jess wondered if it was a dumb question. Was it, though? As complicated as Gotham's reputation could be, maybe some of its citizens _were _fond of living here.

Damian had paused in his motions, half-turned to move from the shelf to the cart next to him. "It has its... qualities," he finally answered, resuming his shelving.

It wasn't the 'yes' or 'no' answer she'd expected, but it somehow made sense in a half-glass-full kind of way.

"You're not from here," he then said bluntly, looking at her from down the aisle. Less of a question, more of a statement.

"Um... No, I'm not," Jess confirmed, slightly taken aback at the assumption. How did he gather that?

Damian seemed to sense her confusion, raising a brow and clarifying, "Only tourists or newcomers ask such questions."

_Right._ Warmth rose in Jess's cheeks, and she turned back to the cart in an attempt to hide the redness that was most likely rising in her face. She shouldn't have been embarrassed about sounding like a tourist, but something about the way he'd pointed it out made her feel so anyway.

Minutes passed as they focused on their own carts of books, Jess internally debating whether to say something else or just shut up. Damian didn't seem talkative (when did he ever?) and the last thing she wanted to do was be annoying. The squeaky movement of rolling wheels caught her attention, and she glanced up to see he was aligning the cart at the end of the aisle.

"Done for the day?" she decided to ask.

He nodded before replying, "I will not be here tomorrow." His gaze ran over the shelves and the few carts that were left nearby, waiting to be worked on. "It's likely we will finish this section when I return if you can keep at your pace." A pause, then, "Try not to—_do _not misplace anything while I am gone."

"Okay," was all she said in return, watching him as he disappeared around the corner without a goodbye. With a sigh, Jess stepped backwards to resume her place, which, unfortunately, resulted in her heel knocking into the cart with a loud metallic rattle and a few books nearly toppling over. Reflexively, she reached out and managed to catch them, startled and heart thudding in her chest.

Damian reappeared around the corner, his brows slightly raised as he appraised the source of the sudden noise.

"I'm good. We're—I mean, the books are good," the words tumbled from her mouth as warmth rose in her face and neck (_again_), frozen in a slight, awkward crouch with her hands outstretched to keep the books from falling.

He said nothing, eyes unreadable, before leaving again—she could practically see him calling her a klutz in his head—allowing Jess to take a deep breath and regain her composure, rearranging the cart and nervously glancing around, hoping no one else had heard the results of her clumsiness.

Well, at least she had _tried_ to break the ice. That had to count for something. It hadn't been so bad, had it?

Replaying the last several minutes in her head, Jess was then wincing to herself in the aisle.

_No, that was pretty bad, Jess._

* * *

**Note: **happy friday! random side note that i've always admired Dick's role as a big brother to Damian, which, i think, is pretty important here in this story, especially in a setting in which they're older and the younger Wayne is growing up and approaching adulthood! anyway. more Dick and Damian to come (eventually Jason... still brainstorming his first appearance) as well as more Jess and Damian, _obviously._

thanks for the faves/follows :')


	10. Games of Wit and Fairness

**Chapter 10: Games of Wit and Fairness**

"Jessica!"

She'd just barely made it past the front desk of the library when Matthew suddenly appeared before her, stopping almost too late in his hurried tracks and nearly running into her.

"Jessica. There you are. I was hoping you'd be around!" the man chirped, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead in the lights.

Brows raised, Jess responded, "Um, yeah, you told me to come in at 11—"

"I need you to run an errand for me," Matthew went on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she'd been speaking, "because I'm far too busy right now to run across the city. Both Joe and Dawn are out today—Joe is sick and Dawn doesn't have a babysitter—but this can't wait. It has to be done by the end of the day."

Having adjusted to the library manager's frazzled personality after almost a week of it, Jess waited patiently for him to continue. Matthew was like a firecracker, even in a place like a library where "inside voices" were a must, which was weirdly contradictory, but his obvious knowledge about the place and how it operated seemed to make up for it. Jess had learned that much during her short albeit one-sided conversations (since she wasn't always successful getting a word in) with him. It made it not even worth trying to tell the man he could call her _Jess_ and not _Jessica—_she'd have to make the effort to try and speak when he wasn't.

"Put simply," Matthew continued, gesturing with his hands and training his worried gaze on her, "there is a collection of books and publications and other important works at City Hall that needs to be brought here for inventory and sent out to the post office _by the end of the day._ I realize you don't have a vehicle and—well, it's also several boxes' worth, so it would make sense for Damian to accompany you and help out. He's already been notified and should be coming up here shortly—ah, what great timing! Damian, I just explained to Jessica everything I told you..."

Jess followed Matthew's gaze that had gone from anxious to relieved somewhere from behind her, and she turned to see her shelving partner approaching them, the look on his face ever so unamused. He was dressed casually in a black t-shirt under a light, grey jacket with a set of car keys dangling from one hand.

Running an errand with Damian? _This should be interesting._

Matthew turned back to Jess, whatever it was he'd recently said completely lost to her since it was so easy to tune him out. "Anyway. You're just there for the muscle and to help bring all the publications back. Damian already has the necessary details regarding who to talk to and what to ask for, all of that. Not that I don't trust you to do that part, but... well, actually saying I trust him more is essentially saying the same thing—"

"Matthew." Damian's eyes were practically half-closed in what was either a glare or lazy impatience, and Jess found herself biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling or laughing. The stark contrast in their personalities was pretty funny; she had a feeling it was even harder for Damian to deal with the firecracker for very long.

"Right, right, sorry." Matthew placed his hands on his hips and split a glance between them. "Off you go! Feel free to grab brunch or lunch or whatever to keep up that energy you'll need in lugging those boxes back."

Damian started moving towards the front doors without a word, Jess following suit after tossing the librarian a small smile. What little sunlight coming through the clouds fell upon them, accompanied by another soft breeze that nearly chilled her through the lightweight windbreaker she'd decided to wear today. (Was there ever _not_ a wind chill in this city?) She kept her distance behind the young man across the parking lot until they reached a dark grey vehicle parked several spots away from the cluster of cars closer to the library entrance. As she approached it, Jess's eyes widened and nearly fell out of their sockets at the sight that she was ninety-nine percent sure was an Aston Martin.

She was far from a car enthusiast but could certainly tell when something was a luxury car... and this was a luxury car _and then some. _Trying not to appear too obvious taking in the sleek, aerodynamic body and perfect surface, Jess tentatively stepped closer to the vehicle with a price tag she probably couldn't guess as it beeped in response to Damian's key fob.

_Even the mechanical beeping sounds expensive._

He was at the driver's side then, reaching for the handle when he looked up at her and raised a slight brow at her hesitation.

"It's not going to bite," he told her, amusement coloring his tone.

Mentally kicking herself, Jess opened the door to the passenger side and slid in—well, more like carefully sat her behind in the soft, buttery leather seat. A light fragrance of wood and amber hung in the air, and she ended up inhaling deeply, figuring the scent itself was probably priceless, too. After buckling her seatbelt, she folded her arms and looked down at herself, almost laughing at how funny and out-of-place her ripped jeans and tennis shoes looked in an interior that cost more than her entire closet.

So, he had money, huh?

The engine rumbled to life then dipped to a low purr after Damian pushed the lit-up button by the steering wheel. As he began the smooth ride across the lot, Jess couldn't help turning to look back at the backseat and the seemingly small trunk behind them, wondering silently if the very lavish albeit small vehicle was enough to handle however many boxes of books Matthew had sent them to retrieve. In fact, she was mildly surprised Damian seemed alright using this car as a moving truck for dusty textbooks and publications; Jess wasn't so sure she herself would feel the same way had she been in his shoes.

The radio was on, some classic rock playing at a low volume from the speakers that made her feel like the music was coming from anywhere and everywhere at once. They were on the main road now, the slightly-tinted windows blocking passengers and fellow drivers beside them from seeing the two of them inside—it was intriguing watching the double takes and interested peers from civilians who were curious about the driver, someone who clearly had more than enough money laying around. Jess felt completely foreign in her seat and even more so next to Damian, who'd been silent the entire time so far.

What could he possibly do, as young as he seemed, that allowed him to own such a luxury? Was it family wealth? Maybe he was one of those genius entrepreneurs that'd graduated from some high-profile university with multiple degrees and began some tech startup?

Keeping her gaze on their surroundings passing by, Jess kept her questions to herself. As curious as she was about him and his bank account, it would probably be rude to inquire about his socioeconomic status... and considering what she'd already gathered of his personality, she didn't want to accidentally offend him or anything.

Jess had no clue where Gotham's city hall was or how long it would take to get there from the library, but the ride was no more than ten minutes through the city's business district. The three-story, concrete building with its wide pillars and fancy lettering loomed over them as the two of them made their way from the parking spot along the street—a space Damian had parallel parked in with frightening ease.

Men and women in business suits and office attire bustled to and fro on the long stretch of steps leading up to the front doors, forcing Jess to weave between some of them to keep up with the young man who was wasting no time getting into the building. Cool air conditioning blew over them in the lobby as Damian approached the front desk, Jess lagging behind to take in the polished marble floors and aging interior design. She made it a little obvious that she'd never stepped foot in the place before, standing in place with her eyes roaming around in slight awe. Compared to Central City's city hall, this one was a little more old-timey and almost rustic in design, probably having been built many years ago and improved on over time.

"That is not what Matthew requested last week," she heard from behind her and turned to see Damian practically staring down the young woman who appeared to be shifting on her feet, nervously, under his gaze. "The first deadline was today anyway, so there's no reason it shouldn't have been done."

"I understand that," the woman hesitated, her eyes darting between him and an older man who was approaching from the side, having overheard the conversation in passing. "But we asked for an extra day because of a mix up in scheduling—"

"Unfortunately for you, we need them today." Damian's tone was flat, a small wrinkle forming between his brows as the gaze turned into a glare. "As in right now."

Jess watched in entertained amusement as the man stepped forward with a raised hand and said, "Excuse me. I'm Jeff, the—"

"I know who you are. You're the one who told Matthew all the required publications would be packed and ready for shipment today and clearly hasn't fulfilled that request."

The woman's brows shot up in surprise, and pink tinged Jeff's ears and neck at the statement. From her position a few feet away, Jess suppressed the smile she could feel tugging at her mouth. This shouldn't have been funny to her, but who was she kidding? Damian's bluntness and the way people reacted to it was a sitcom in action.

The man cleared his throat and seemed to attempt to straighten himself—maybe he was irritated that Damian, who was likely young enough to be his son, was talking to him in such a manner. Meeting his gaze, Jeff said, "They'll be ready in an hour."

Raising a single brow, Damian countered, "Thirty minutes."

"They're distributed in multiple offices—" he stopped at the piercing glare he received, "Forty-five minutes."

A long, tense pause passed with Jeff holding Damian's gaze until the young man gave a curt nod and glanced at his watch. "We will return in exactly forty-five minutes."

As he walked away, Jeff muttered, "I'm counting on it," and reached up to adjust his tie, exchanging a look with the woman at the desk.

Following Damian back outside, Jess fell into step beside him and couldn't help asking, "Do you always do that?"

"Do what?" He didn't spare her a glance as they followed the steps down to the street.

"... Intimidate people." She peered at him warily, a little nervous, hoping he wouldn't take her question offensively. She wasn't asking to accuse him of being too harsh; Jess was genuinely curious if he knew how he came off. There were plenty of people who lacked that kind of self-awareness.

"I don't make it a habit to be rude, but I will point out someone's incompetence when necessary."

Jess thought back to the last several days she'd worked with him, trying to pinpoint a specific time when he might have done the same with her. Except for the one time he'd specifically asked her to not misplace books, she couldn't recall a moment when he said something that would have suggested he was calling her... incompetent. That was relieving, right? Not that she should've cared.

Reaching the sidewalk, Damian turned to her and crossed his arms. "Well, now that we suddenly have time to spare, is there anything specific you'd like to do?"

Jess's eyes swept their surroundings, taking in the Gothamites passing by and the impatient honks of drivers on the streets. She hadn't gotten to see a whole lot of the city yet despite the free time she had on her hands and Misty's offer to show her around; aside from putting in hours at the library, Jess had worked to occupy herself with books she ended up borrowing from said library and, occasionally, allowing herself to fall back into the soul-sucking world of social media to see what her old friends and classmates were up to. A few times, she'd gone out for a walk though she never paid enough attention to call it a learning experience for what were good eating or reading spots. If anything, it was just a way to get out of the shelter facility and clear her mind that was often riddled with old memories and people that wanted to resurface in spite of her efforts to keep them shut away behind lock and key.

"Or we could stand here for thirty minutes."

Damian's voice—it was smooth, Jess suddenly noticed, but with the slightest rasp when he spoke in lower volumes—pulled her from her thoughts, and she glanced up to see him watching her. "Is there a place around here with good coffee or sandwiches or both?"

"No. You'd have to travel abroad for 'good' either of those things."

"Okay, so how about 'good enough for a middle-class civilian like me'?" Jess quipped without thinking, raising a brow at him.

Something glinted in his gaze, like a smirk that never actually reached his lips. "There's a restaurant a few blocks from here. My brother likes it and makes the same order every time we go. I personally find their menu to be mediocre and outdated, but I also respect my brother's standards." He paused, then added, "Most of the time."

Jess gestured with a hand, saying, "Lead the way," a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"Do you want to walk or would you like me to drive?" Damian's tilted his head towards the car sitting in all its expensive glory between the SUV and sedan that paled in comparison.

"Well, I wouldn't want to increase the chances of me ruining your car's interior..." she trailed off, glancing over at it. Though their exchange of words had previously been playful moments before, she was being serious about not wanting to dirty his car.

There was a light scoff—she turned back to Damian, seeing him roll his eyes, a gesture that almost seemed unnatural on him. "As long as you keep your hands to yourself and don't bring in leftover food, it'll be fine. It's just a car, merely a means of transportation."

With that, he made his way to the driver's side, Jess unable to help feeling somewhat impressed by his non-materialistic attitude.

'_Just a car,'_ she mouthed to herself in disbelief as she went to open the door.

_Well at least he's a little more talkative now._

The restaurant in question was a small but cozy spot on a corner near an intersection, lined with booths against the walls and tables elsewhere on the floor. Paintings and framed portraits graced the beige paint, lit by dim, hanging lanterns, and it was moderately busy considering the fact that it was lunchtime. Jess and Damian claimed a booth in the corner with a window, and not even a minute later, a young woman appeared with two fresh glasses of water. The look that she gave Damian was just a _millisecond_ longer than the one she'd given Jess, one she wasn't sure he even noticed. (Or maybe he did and simply didn't care.)

Beside them, on the other side of the glass, pedestrians moved up and down the sidewalk, and the partially-hidden sun was beginning to peek from behind the clouds, its rays brightening the busy city below it. She could see the Aston Martin in the distance, parked across the street past the intersection (again, thanks to Damian's effortless parallel parking skills). Jess skimmed the menu before her, making mental note to order something quick and light for the sake of not taking too long and being another thorn in Damian's side just as Jeff had been. Besides, she _had_ only mentioned coffee and a sandwich. It wouldn't be very nice or considerate to get anything more.

"Is there anything I can get you besides water?" The young woman, who'd introduced herself as Heather, had returned, her gaze flickering between the two of them.

"Coffee," the both of them answered at the same time.

"Creamer?"

"Yes, please," Jess responded while Damian remained silent.

When she walked away, Jess sat back against the booth seat and appraised him for a moment. This was the best she'd gotten a look at him; even in the car, they had sat side-by-side but facing the same direction. Here, the two of them faced each other, mere feet apart, and it was now that Jess could—hopefully _discreetly—_actually see what he looked like because shelving at the library didn't exactly lend for natural glances and gazes of examination. Damian's slightly ruffled, cropped hair wasn't just dark... it was nearly a perfect black that shone in the sunlight that was finally coming out and spilling in from the window, a slight widow's peak in the center of his hairline. Jess still wasn't sure how old he was, but the sharp jawline and cheekbones were softened by youthfulness that must've put him at 21 or even 22 at the oldest.

Most intriguing of all was the indentation between his tapered eyebrows, a wrinkle that could have been permanent for all Jess knew and had seen. That was based on the frequent glares she'd witnessed him give as if he had as much of them to hand out as he did money, apparently.

"I can feel you staring, you know."

His gaze had been turned downward at the laminated menu, but then Damian looked up at her, the faint sunlight highlighting what Jess was now realizing were very green eyes. She'd been able to tell their color before, but with the angle of the light and how much closer they were now at the table, his irises were brighter and sharper, a startling shade of emerald.

Or maybe that was just his glare again.

Thinking quickly and trying to beat the heat of embarrassment flushing her face, Jess then said, "Well... Maybe there's something on your face."

"Is there?"

"... No."

_Geez, Jess. Way to continue making an idiot of yourself_, she chided herself, remembering the other day when she'd nearly knocked over the cart and Damian had pretty much judged her with that silent stare of his that ironically spoke volumes.

The corner of his mouth lifted the tiniest bit. "If it's any consolation, you're hiding it a little better than she is."

As if on cue, Heather appeared with two steaming mugs of coffee and a bowl of creamer cups. Jess and Damian gave their orders quickly, the blue-haired teen watching with curious, hazel eyes as the young woman asked about Damian's choice of bread and whether he wanted soup, salad, or chips with cheery enthusiasm.

The moment she walked away, Jess met his eyes and saw that, while he wasn't outright smiling—since he never seemed to—there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark jade-colored gaze.

"Very... perceptive of you," she commented as she proceeded to dump creamer into her coffee.

"It's not perceptive if it's obvious."

_Yikes._ Was that his way of saying Jess had been obvious in her staring, too?

She trained her focus on the coffee before her, knowing that she was now going to have to be a lot more careful with the way she glanced at him. _Maybe I should tell him I wasn't gawking because he's attractive. I just... hadn't really gotten to see him up close yet like this._

Right. Because that would sound so much less creepy.

Compared to her mixing of sugar and creamer into her cup, Damian was apparently the type to take his black without a single additive. _That actually makes a lot of sense,_ Jess mused as she watched him sip the still-steaming cup.

A minute or two passed in silence while she perfected her drink, tasting it in as small a sip as possible to avoid burning her tongue and grimacing at both the temperature and the bitterness still present. Figuring she'd let it cool down first, Jess cleared her throat and thought that another attempt at small talk was allowable. Just the last twenty minutes had proven Damian wasn't as standoffish as she'd originally thought.

"So, uh... what made you start volunteering with the library?"

That seemed like a reasonable enough question to ask.

Damian tore his gaze from the window where he'd been watching civilians pass by. "I needed something to pass my time for the summer," was all he said.

Jess gave a slow nod in understanding. "I'm guessing you like to read then, and you like the library." She inwardly cringed—_duh, Jess._

"I enjoy reading, but I wouldn't go as far as saying I 'like' the library," Damian responded with a shrug. "I prefer the one we have in our home."

A library... _in his home?_ Jess felt her eyes widen again, and she had to work to make sure the surprise wasn't evident on her face. Of course he had an entire library inside his own house. Was it even a house? Or was it a mansion? _A castle?_

"And you?"

"Me?" Jess, having barely recovered from learning that Damian had a whole library in his home, was further confused by him returning the question.

He raised a thin brow at her. "Yes, you. What are you doing at the library?"

Jess didn't answer for a long moment, realizing she was wholly unprepared to answer.

Damian must have taken her silence as some kind of opposition because he then added, "You asked me. It's only fair I ask you."

"No, you're—I mean yeah, you're right. It's only fair..."

_I'm fulfilling community service hours._

There was absolutely no way she was about to share that kind of information with him, a guy she barely knew. Admitting such a thing would open a floodgate to more and more questions, like "Why are you doing community service?" and "What did you do to be assigned community service?" Then further and deeper they would go into a history and past Jess did not want to look back at for too many reasons to name. Not even Misty had yet asked why Jess was at the facility, and Jess had respectfully avoided doing the same thing. In hindsight, she should have come up with a go-to explanation for why she was staying at a shelter for underage kids and spending her days organizing library bookshelves, but... for whatever reason, she hadn't gone to the lengths to even consider she would have to. Not when she was supposed to be starting a clean slate, because being honest and truthful had to come with that, right?

But that didn't have to count for strangers she didn't know... did it?

Damian was still waiting, watching her across the table. Suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze, Jess reached for her coffee and took a gulp, grateful it had cooled down a little.

"I'm... doing a favor," she then answered as evenly as possible. "For Matthew."

It was a partial truth, an edited, watered-down version of a story that had written her part as one of the bad guys. But at least in this chapter, she was on some sort of path to redemption. _At least I think I am._

And Damian didn't have to know the entire book.

He didn't say anything, examining her with careful, glittering eyes, but then he nodded once. "Where are you from?"

"How did you...?"

"Tourist, remember?"

Jess gave a light, embarrassed laugh, recalling the day she'd asked him questions about himself and he'd pointed out how tourist-y she sounded. "I was born and raised in Central City," she answered after another slow sip of coffee. "You mentioned you've only been here about ten years. What about you? Where were you before coming here?"

Something in Damian's features shifted, and not in a good way, but maybe Jess was imagining things. Still, he sat back against the booth, the wrinkle between his brows deepening. "What is this? '20 Questions'?"

The sharpness in his tone pierced her in the chest, and she immediately felt defensive. He sounded irritated, but a voice in the back of her head told her to not jump to any conclusions or make any rash decisions when it came to snapping back at him. Had she overstepped by asking him this question? Was he already tired of small talk?

She didn't know him, so the answers were endless. It could've been anything.

Meeting his eyes, Jess gave a casual shrug, hoping to come off unbothered. "You asked me. It's only fair," she said, returning pretty much the exact answer he'd given her previously.

Damian held her gaze easily and coolly, and she willed herself not to buckle under the green eyes that seemed to be calculating, scrutinizing, narrowing.

Then he gave a soundless sigh and lifted the mug to his lips, saying quietly, "Touché."

* * *

The juvenile delinquent was proving to be more than the one-dimensional character Damian had first thought she was. Damian knew himself well enough to recognize when he was writing people off with hasty assumptions about their morals and personalities, but years of learning to read human behavior and working as Robin made it an easy habit. Out of the whole family, Dick may have been the most empathetic and perceptive when it came to people and relationships, but Damian was more than confident in his own abilities to read body language, the darting of someone's eyes or the shifting of weight from foot to foot.

Sitting across from Jess in that restaurant Dick insisted on going to every time he visited, Damian could already tell she was starting to warm up to him despite his efforts to… well, do nothing in return. He wasn't opening up to her, but neither was he making attempts to push her away—he had no desire to do anything at all, merely based on the idea that he had no interest in general in making friends. Damian was being his usual self (because why would he do otherwise anyway?), and it was up to Jess how she would react to it.

He couldn't say she was doing particularly _well_ so far, but wittiness hadn't been one of the things he'd expected from her.

"_You asked me. It's only fair."_

Only a handful of people he knew would have been able to provide snappy answers like that, and this wasn't even the first time she'd done so.

_"Do you always think on rooftops? I thought they only did that in movies."_

_"Do you always scare random strangers when they're thinking on the edge of rooftops?"_

Even Robin hadn't been immune to her quick-witted responses.

Well. He had to acknowledge her clever use of his own words against him. "Touché," he admitted before taking another drink from his mug.

Jess inclined her head at his response and glanced out the window, not prodding him to answer her question. She was letting it slide. _Good. I don't want to have to keep my lies straight._ Making up personal details—like telling her he was from New York City as opposed to growing up and training as a lethal assassin in the mountains of Tibet—wouldn't have been difficult, but it was more work than he wanted to deal with. Besides, it _had_ been starting to feel like a game of 20 Questions, something he had absolutely zero interest in.

"What about five?"

She was looking at him from across the table, hazel eyes waiting patiently for his response.

"Five questions, I mean," she clarified, gesturing towards him. "Or six. We already asked two, so each of us can ask two more and both answer them."

"And why would we do that?"

With a shrug, Jess returned, "Um... Why not?"

A small, shy smile stretched across her lips, but Damian's narrowed, suspicious gaze remained. What was it that made people play these get-to-know-you things? They always seemed so silly and cliche.

"And... they can be questions that aren't as personal as where you used to live previously." The slight smile changed then, now a smirk that made him feel like she was poking fun at his earlier annoyance.

Sensing a challenge, Damian leaned forward, placing his arms on the table and clasping his hands together. _I suppose I could play this one. Just to humor her._ "Fine. But your questions had better be interesting and not from some online questionnaire that tells you what kind of bread you are."

Her brows shot up. "Hey, that's funny. I was actually about to ask you what kind of food you'd be!" Her hazel irises twinkled with laughter, and Damian only rolled his eyes, bemused. _Very funny._

"Deal," she then answered. "You know, I have to admit I really didn't think you were capable of rolling your eyes."

"You are not the first to say that. I'm known to be heartless, socially isolated, and lacking personality."

"Oh, you have personality," Jess chuckled, then her eyes widened and she scrambled to add, "Not that I'm saying you _are_ heartless or socially isolated..."

Damian didn't get a chance to respond; Heather was arriving with their food. She left after asking if they needed anything else (Damian could tell she was trying to evenly divide her glances and smile between the two of them), but the momentary interruption didn't stop him from considering how more comfortable Jess was acting now since several minutes ago. This was likely the kind of openness and vulnerability that'd landed her with Jax and Beth Eastman, people who'd obviously taken advantage of this very receptivity—more proof to Damian that wariness and a high standard for earning trust were essential.

Then again, many teenagers were blissfully ignorant to learning when and when not to expose themselves to strange people and situations. This could be easily said about Jess, one thing Damian seemed to have gotten right so far.

"I'll go first since you didn't answer the last one," she began, picking up a small french fry from her plate and examining it as if it would tell her what to ask. "If you had to give up one of your five senses, which one would it be and why?"

Damian, who hadn't touched his food yet in preparation to answer, sat silently with his eyes on nothing in particular out the window, turning over her words in his mind, making calculated deductions, imagining hypothetical situations. Glancing over at her, he then answered, "Smell. It would affect the way I taste food, but I could fare with that."

The longer, more truthful answer had everything to do with his ability to fight and rely on his other senses, such as sight and hearing, to excel in combat—although he'd endured plenty of training that involved fighting blindfolded or being otherwise compromised—but alas, it wasn't an answer she needed to know.

"Interesting," Jess, who'd just finished chewing the fry she had previously been examining, replied with her brows raised. "I can't say the same—I love food too much."

"So what would you give up then?"

Her hazel eyes fell to the table as a blank look overtook her face, and she mindlessly popped another fry into her mouth. A few long moments passed as Damian waited, eating his own food and wondering what could possibly be making her consider the question so seriously.

He caught the change in her features—it was subtle, a relaxing of the facial muscles around her eyes that had first widened them in her zoned-out look, similar to what people did when they "deflated" in disappointment or exhaustion. Her eyes flickered from the random spot on the table to the hand that'd been hovering over her plate, then back up to where they met inquisitive, green irises.

"I guess I'd say I would give up touch so I wouldn't have to deal with, like, paper cuts and injuries and stuff," she then explained with a slight grin.

"You mean pain."

His words made her smile falter, but she was quick to recover by making a face that said "Duh," and answered, "I mean, yeah. Who likes experiencing pain? Unless you're a sadist."

Damian quirked a brow. "Masochist," he corrected.

"Yeah, that."

Considering everything he already knew about her and her past as well as the way she'd given her answer, he figured there was a deeper meaning that involved her meta-human abilities, the wrongdoing she'd committed, and of course, the deaths of her parents. Jess probably hadn't known how she would answer her own question hence why, while she sat there and thought about it, the realization had dawned on her face as bright as day and Damian had been able to read it.

Yet, he couldn't say he didn't understand her reasoning (despite how she'd tried to play it off as something as trivial as paper cuts). Pain certainly wouldn't be missed for him either if it were taken away by giving up the sense of touch.

"Your turn," she then reminded him, focusing her attention on the sandwich before her.

Though he wouldn't easily admit it, Damian had never been all that good at asking questions that weren't interrogative and purposeful, essential to a case or Robin-related situation. Growing up, the idea of getting to know a person or discussing topics that verged on philosophical concepts weren't his forte let alone interest. He didn't care for knowing which of the five senses someone would sacrifice, whether someone believed in coincidences or that things happened for a reason; he couldn't care less about any of that because Damian Wayne believed in _logic,_ in hard facts and truths. It was one of the things that'd always made it difficult for most people to understand and sometimes get along with him. (And, of course, his family had noted this resemblance to his father.)

So when Damian wracked his brain for potential questions, the one he ended up asking was "If you were a hero and could have a 'superpower', what would it be? I don't—"

"I thought we weren't asking questions that sound like they're from some online quiz about what bread you are." Jess's brows were knitted in confusion with amusement in her eyes.

"I came up with this question just now," he responded bluntly, slightly miffed she'd interrupted him.

"Yeah... but everyone asks that question—it's kinda cliche."

There was an awkward pause as Jess watched him narrow his gaze, and she looked away, down at her food as if she regretted what she'd said.

Seeing as she wasn't going to say more, he then continued, "I don't believe special abilities and '_powers'_ are necessary for fighting crime. I wouldn't have any."

"Like… Batman. And Robin."

Damian's eyes examined her carefully, curious about why she'd mentioned them. She wasn't looking back at him, concentrating instead on her plate. "Precisely."

Truthfully, he really wanted to know how Jess, a meta-human, would answer this question; he already knew she would lie or frame her answer in a way that hinted at her own experiences without outright announcing that she was, in fact, a teenager who could manipulate biological systems.

After a several seconds of her eating fries in contemplation, she then spoke up, "I think it would be cool to maybe fly or be a speedster. And I'm not saying that because I'm from Central City, I… I dunno. Being able to go anywhere I want in a short amount of time without traffic and all that…"

_Because you run._

Though his face was nothing more than stoic, Damian was actually… taken aback, not at her choice of superpower—a desire to run made complete sense for her—but at the fact that she apparently was not fond of the powers she _did_ have. He'd assumed she would mention something about healing people at the very least, but this was nonetheless intriguing.

Jess's eyes were still on her food, not having met his stare since she'd looked away. _Does she realize how open of a book she is to read? _

Glancing at his watch, Damian then announced, "We should leave soon if we're to make it back to City Hall on time." He was certainly determined to make it back at the exact moment he'd promised that Jeff character.

"Okay then, my last question is..." she began as she tucked a few strands of blue hair behind her ear, finally glancing up at him. She was interrupted when Heather appeared with a smile and their check.

Once she left, Jess downed the rest of her coffee and reached in her jacket pocket, retrieving a small, light blue wallet. "I lost my train of thought. I'll have to think of something on the way back."

Damian, who was much swifter at getting to his own wallet, placed the shiny black card inside the slim book. "Don't worry about it," he said, referring to the check.

She raised her brows in surprise, pausing with her hand outstretched to reach for it. "Wait, what? Are you sure…?"

He didn't want her to read too much into the random gesture of kindness, so he crossed his arms and sat back. "Consider it a thanks for not being completely incompetent at shelving properly."

Her eyebrows fell as pink flushed her cheeks and wide, hazel eyes bounced almost nervously between the card she was putting away and his own eyes, obvious indications of humiliation. Damian had never once intended to embarrass her, but clearly she reacted that way so easily with him. Why?

"Uh, gee, thanks…" she responded timidly with a light laugh.

Neither of them said anything else as their waitress came to retrieve the payment—the young woman's eyes flickered to first Damian and then Jess when she noticed the lone card, and he knew there was only one conclusion she was coming to (which was entirely wrong but nothing of importance to fret over). Jess excused herself to make a trip to the bathroom while they waited for Heather to return, then several minutes later, they were back in the car and on the way to City Hall.

During the drive back, either she'd forgotten about asking her last question for their impromptu game or she was taking her time coming up with one. The car was silent again except for the low-volume music, Damian's gaze trained on the road though he could see in the corner of his eye that she was deep in thought while staring out her window. Whatever the case, he welcomed the silence after spending a much longer time in conversation than he usually liked, given the unexpected delay in their errand. Thankfully, this wasn't as painful as he'd first expected when Matthew had roped him into this task... aside from the city hall staff's appalling ineptitude, of course. Damian couldn't say he was _glad_ to have spoken to Jess—or that he'd "gotten to know her better" since they hadn't _actually_ learned much about one another—but the black-haired teen was certainly relieved she didn't seem to be shallow or annoying like many other teens her age. At least not for the moment.

Damian's unfiltered, straightforward approach had worked in their favor because a few stacks of small-to-medium boxes were waiting for them when they arrived. Another dry comment from him and Jeff allowed him to park the car around the back where the loading docks were, providing him and Jess an easier path walking between the building and the car as opposed to up and down the long stretch of steps at the front of the hall. (That was more for Jess's sake—he could've done those trips without breaking a sweat, though he wasn't so sure what her endurance was like.)

They were back in the car and heading to the library in no time, the boxes sitting snugly in the roomy trunk (to Jess's barely concealed surprise). No sooner had Damian pulled back onto the main road than she was speaking again from the passenger seat.

"If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

He waited until he'd slowed to a stop at a red light before glancing over at her. "There are many places I wouldn't mind residing in, but I would narrow it down to New York City or Thailand." Seeing the curiosity in her eyes, he added, "My brother lives in New York City, and it resembles Gotham but with lower crime rates and much better food. If I want to be reminded of home, that's where I'd go. And Thailand is beautiful—inexpensive living, great food, and very peaceful."

"So you wouldn't stay here in Gotham for the rest of your life?"

"You've asked your last question."

"Fine," she said with a sigh of defeat and looked forward at the road before them. "I haven't traveled much—only within the states—but I do want to visit somewhere overseas. I'm sure there's a place over there I'd want to live."

_There's always something about distance and going far away somewhere with you, isn't there?_

"Got another question?"

Damian thought for a long moment before answering, "I'm not a philosophical person, you know. I don't care to know answers to questions like these let alone ask them." A glance over at her showed him that Jess appeared to be chewing on the inside of her cheek, offended or something like it.

"That's fine," she then said indifferently. "No one's holding a gun to your head."

Though she had been easy to read for the most part, Damian wasn't quite sure if she was being lighthearted or returning his bluntness. Her arms had been crossed the whole time so far, eyes still focused on the scenery before them.

"I, uh, kinda had a feeling you weren't very talkative in the first place." A tentative smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she turned to look at him.

Damian merely nodded once in agreement, and they rode the rest of the way, falling back into mutual silence. It wasn't until they'd reached the library, found Matthew—who was relieved, praising and thanking them several times—and had taken all the boxes to the mailroom that they spoke again. Near the front desk, Damian continued heading for the front door when he heard, "Are you—?"

Jess had been walking in another direction, where they'd begun working with nonfiction books after finishing the philosophy section. Puzzled eyes were on him as she was paused in her path, half-turned to ask him either if he was leaving or going to return to the shelves.

"I'm finished for today," he informed her.

"Oh. Okay, see you tomorrow. And I owe you lunch," she said, starting to walk again.

"I'm out for the weekend, and I said to not worry about it."

Jess stopped once more, swiveling in position to look back at him, something like haughtiness flashing in her eyes. "Well, I can't _not_ repay you somehow, so... I guess if you ever need a favor or something, just let me know."

Damian huffed a sigh. "Alright," was all he said, about to begin walking away. _Of course she'd insist on repaying me._

"It's only fair." At his glare that said "Really?", she shrugged, attempting to fight the grin spreading across her face. "Sorry, I had to."

"Life isn't always fair, Jessica."

"Jess," she corrected him. "You can just call me Jess. And... Yeah. I know that."

They stood there, looking at each other, until Damian, impatient, asked, "Anything else?"

Shaking her head, she said, "I'll, uh, see you Monday then. Have a good weekend."

With that, Jess tossed him a timid smile and took off, disappearing between the shelves. Damian shook his head, continuing on his way to the front doors, nodding at Jan, the elderly woman who worked the front desk and waved goodbye at him.

At this point, he could only conclude that Jess was a girl of perplexing character with a personality that flexed between intermittent embarrassment and occasional strikes of wit and snark; one moment she was flushing pink at his words or stumbling over her own speech, then another moment later and she was emboldened to make droll remarks. It was ironic and contradictory at the same time. Strangely, Damian was unsure how exactly he felt about her. Prejudiced opinions based on what he knew about her and what she'd done aside, Jess didn't easily fall in the categories he often assigned people he met (Matthew had immediately been tagged as "annoying" when Damian had first spoken with him.)

So far, she was... bearable, like Tim Drake or some of the Titans members. Not yet trustworthy like they were, but bearable. That meant Jess was in her own category, which unnerved Damian a little despite the fact they had only known each other for a very short amount of time, and today had been the only time they'd really had a conversation.

It was no matter. This wasn't something he was going to spend too much time considering, especially when he had already wasted so much time on her over a month ago—he had other pressing matters that required his attention.

A vibration began in his pocket, and when he pulled his phone from it, seeing the name "Richard" and an old photo of the man scowling due to some prank younger Damian had pulled on him, he answered it promptly. "Grayson."

_Speaking of more important matters._

"Dami. I'm about to board the plane," Dick's buoyant voice came through, the faint chatter of a woman announcing a flight arrival over a telecom in the background.

"I told you it was unnecessary to inform me," Damian responded as he approached his car. "I'm capable of checking the flight itinerary online."

"Hey. I'm just making sure you won't forget about picking me up because you're off having fun with other teenagers at a party or something."

"Was that supposed to be funny?"

"Laugh a little, Dami. It doesn't hurt."

"Stop calling me that," he snapped, though it was more out of habit than actual spite—he'd grown used to the stupid nickname over the years and the older man had never stopped using it. (It was likely due to the fact that Damian himself had never ceased calling him variations of his name either.)

Dick snorted. "I will if you pick me up on time."

"I'm always on time."

"Yeah, yeah. See you in a bit, Dami."

"Call me that abhorrent nickname one more time and you will be taking a cab home."

"Remember, Dami, 2:45 unless we arrive early or late," he heard before the call ended with a click.

Rolling his eyes, Damian hung up before starting up the car, a hint of an amused smile on his face.

* * *

**Note: **phew well this chapter is a lot longer than previous ones, but i hope ya enjoyed it! wanted to throw the two of them into an unavoidable situation and see how they interacted with each other lol.

thanks to **curlystruggle** and **LoveKitaSoMuch** for your reviews! (curlystruggle, yours gave me a good laugh. ty for that)

i also hope everyone is safe and doing well in these crazy, unprecedented times we're experiencing all around the world.

until next time! stay safe and healthy, xx


	11. Like Old Times

**Chapter 11: Like Old Times**

If there was anything Dick Grayson had over Damian Wayne, it was agility and reflexes... and a hairline that didn't practically mirror Bruce's—not that it wasn't a good one, but it was a definite, hereditary mark of the Wayne genes, one Dick was kind of glad he didn't have.

Dick and Damian had sparred for too many times to count over the last several years (and were actually pretty close in scores with, unfortunately, Damian in the lead). But while the young assassin-turned-hero literally had the skills and prowess of someone who'd been bred to be that way, Dick had his experience as an aerialist and acrobat on his side. Being able to pretty much _dance_ around the teen was natural and advantageous at times, leveling them to the point they were nearly equals on the mat.

A glint of light against blade immediately had the former Robin bending as far backwards as he could and sliding across the floor on his knees, the katana just mere centimeters from skimming the tip of his nose as Damian swung it. Having slid to a full stop several feet behind him, Dick glanced back at the teen and then stood up, twirling the escrima sticks he'd been wielding.

"That could've been deadly," he commented with a slight grin.

Damian, who was straightening from his offensive position and swinging the katana up to rest the blade on his shoulder, returned the smirk. "That was the point. You know I don't hold back."

"And if I hadn't dodged it in time?"

"Then you'd have to explain to Kori and Mar'i how you got your new scar."

The two of them were dressed in light workout gear in the Batcave, Dick just in sweats, shirtless—getting older meant sweating more apparently—with Damian sporting a simple shirt and joggers. It'd been Damian's idea to have a quick match before dinner after picking him up from the airport, and the older man had happily agreed; this would be the first time in months they'd been able to do something like this and even longer that they'd been in the field together.

Even then, just mere hours after his arrival, Dick could tell his youngest brother wasn't as distracted as he'd seemed lately, that the fight had taken some stress and weight off his shoulders.

Where all that was coming from, he didn't know. But he'd made a mental note that while he was visiting the manor for a little while, he'd do what he could to figure it out.

"Then I guess you're lucky I've got such great reflexes," Dick bantered as he crossed the floor to his water bottle on the bench. "Wouldn't want an angry Starfire making a visit."

"How are they?" Damian joined him after putting up the katana, taking up a seat on the same bench.

"They're good. This summer camp they're at should let them have some time together without Dad around, so I'm glad they've got that going for them before school starts back up."

"Hm," was all the teen said with a nod as his gaze absentmindedly roamed to the other side of the room.

Damian was rarely absentminded, and Dick couldn't ignore that he was seeming that way right now.

Keeping his voice as even as possible, he set his water bottle down, crossed his arms and said, "What about you?"

Green eyes met blue ones, the former clouded with distraction and the latter merely inquisitive and open. Damian maintained the eye contact, expression unreadable, almost blank. "I'm fine. I've been keeping busy."

"Right, the library and all that. How are those coming?" A memory passed through his mind, and he added, "Is that Jessica girl still...?"

"Yes. She's still there, serving her community service hours."

Dick remained silent, letting the open space invite Damian to speak more. He'd found over time that the kid was more likely to express his thoughts and feelings when given patience and a little time—success in that usually came with letting him make that decision for himself whether he'd open up or not. It didn't always work, but it was one of the few things Dick had managed to figure out when it came to the complicated, sometimes angsty, character that was Damian Wayne, blood son of a man who could be equally, if not more, complex and broody.

"I... don't know how I feel about her yet," Damian began, a wrinkle forming between his brows as he thought. The hint of hesitation confirmed Dick's suspicions because the younger Wayne was rarely hesitant on top of distracted. "And that's unsettling. She's witty at times, implausibly awkward at others, but I can't figure out if she's anything more or less than tolerable. It's also difficult to tell if redemption for her crimes is one of her top priorities, but I suppose that would require being around her more often that I already am..."

A little relieved that he'd said something, Dick gave a light shrug and asked, "So, have you considered trying to get to know her then?"

Damian lifted a brow and made that "Tt" sound he did every now and then, a slight, mini version of a normal scoff. "What do you mean? I know everything about her."

_Oh, Damian._

Looking up at the ceiling and sighing, Dick then looked back down at him and said, "I mean get to know _her_, Damian, not her file. I've told you this before: you don't have to 'vet' or do a background check on every potential friend you meet."

"'Friend'? Who said I'm trying to be friends with her?"

"Okay... maybe you aren't exactly looking to be friends, but I just don't think you can come to an accurate read on Jessica without actually getting to know her like you would a friend, coworker, classmate, you know."

The teen didn't respond, and Dick felt a glimmer of hope that it was because he knew he was right. With Damian's unique, to say the least, personality and the mindset with which he approached every situation, anything related to being social had been more or less unsuccessful or sometimes just lucky. It was a wonder he'd manage to hold certain romantic relationships for as long as he did, and sometimes Dick had wondered if the slight lack of social awareness somehow made the kid more attractive to the girls who flocked towards him. _Maybe they just didn't care if he was weird and a little socially inept._

Geez. Damian would literally kill him if Dick called him "socially inept."

"Perhaps," he finally answered, looking at nothing in particular somewhere near Dick's figure. "But I don't care to make any efforts being her friend or not. I do my tasks at the library and she manages to mostly do hers as well. She hasn't struck me as annoying or unbearable yet, so I suppose that's enough for now."

Voice low and almost soft, Dick said, "Well, I know I've already said this, but I'm glad you're keeping busy anyway." His tone grew a little cheerier as he continued, "I actually just talked to Tim and Steph last week, and they're doing the same—did you know Tim is going to graduate soon? He's thinking December if his schedule works out this fall, otherwise it'd be in the spring..."

As expected, the mention of the other former Robin seemed to trigger a minuscule change in Damian. He didn't seem _bothered_ exactly, but Dick caught the shift from sitting up on the bench to leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and the darting gaze from spot to spot in the cave—Damian wanted him to stop talking about the people he hadn't spoken to in a long time.

Dick didn't expect any more or less from the young man, and for once, he wished he'd been wrong.

"Thought I'd find you two in here."

The two of them looked up to find Bruce approaching them, dressed in another one of his business suits. His calm gaze landed first on Dick, brightening at the presence of a son he hadn't seen in a while, then on Damian, softening at the sight of another son with whom he hadn't had a normal conversation for too long.

Dick, immediately noticing but not acknowledging this, adopted a grin. "Hey, B. I'd give you a hug, but I'm a little, uh, sweaty."

The corner of Bruce's mouth quirked up in a slight smile. "You already know I wouldn't mind."

They took a moment to greet each other with a hug then, Damian staring at them with a blank expression.

"Look at you. You've got more than a few grey hairs since last time I saw you," Dick was saying as he stepped back and examined his old man, hands on his hips.

Bruce made a casual shrug. "It's inevitable. Selina suggested I try boxed dye. She said it as if she were making a joke, but..." He shook his head, a gesture that completed his sentence for him.

"Nah, don't worry about it. It looks good on you!"

"Why did you fly in? Didn't feel like taking the scenic drive from New York City?"

"The car's in the shop—transmission and engine decided to give out last week, plus the ticket was pretty cheap anyway."

"Then how long are you staying?" Bruce inquired.

Dick looked at him, then Damian, and back at Bruce. "Honestly, I've got a lot of time on my hands these next couple weeks. I'll stay until you get sick of me."

A dry voice behind him said, "That won't take long."

Damian appeared beside him but on the side that was further from Bruce—Dick noticed this instantly, unsurprised but curious. He knew the teen's comment had been a simple tease, though he was sure there was some truth to it.

"We always enjoy your visits," Bruce said to Dick with a small smile. "I'm sure Damian is glad to have some company."

"'Glad' is not the word I would use," the younger Wayne replied as he started heading toward the cave exit that led into the manor.

Dick feigned a hurt frown. "Ouch, Dami."

"Hang on, there's a potential case I want to discuss with you from Commissioner Gordon." Bruce's voice was even, though Dick thought he detected hesitation, maybe wariness. Is this how he'd been speaking to Damian all these weeks because things had been tense? He could only imagine how the man probably felt the need to tiptoe around the teen who was too stubborn to discuss his feelings.

"It can't wait until after dinner?"

Dick's eyes darted between the two of them, father and son each holding the other's gaze easily like it was a staring contest. This was not the first time Dick had been in this position though, on the outside looking in and, sometimes, having to stand between them when the atmosphere got too rough. For the briefest moment, in his mind's eye, he saw an older memory of another time they'd been like this, younger, with Damian still a preteen and Bruce with little to no grey hairs. He was reliving one of those days, but this time, his baby brother was close to outgrowing his teen years, as tall as Dick and built like he was twenty-something, and their mutual father figure was already nearing his fifties, slight crow's feet sitting at the corners of his blue eyes.

Wasn't it just yesterday that Damian, the newest and most recent to take up the Robin mantle, had pitched a fit when Dick took him to the Titans tower so he could join and learn from the team?

"Gordon is still around? I'm surprised he hasn't retired by now," Dick interjected with an attempt to steer the tension away from the atmosphere.

"He already has plans to," Bruce answered, blue eyes shifting from Damian to his oldest son, "by the end of the year."

Dick nodded his head in understanding, vaguely wondering who'd replace Gordon at GCPD. What did that mean for his "work relationship" with Batman? He thought to ask this question until he realized there was dead silence hanging in the air, both Bruce and Damian still standing beside him, eyes averted.

"Uh… Alfred probably isn't quite ready for us. I'll go see if he needs help," Dick then suggested, still watching the two of them carefully. "You do whatever you need to with the new case, and I'll let you know if the food's ready."

Neither of the Waynes said a word, Bruce beginning to walk towards his computer and Damian merely turning hard, green eyes onto Dick as he grabbed his shirt and took the opportunity to leave the cave, wondering if it was such a good idea to leave them alone. Not that it was his responsibility to always be around when they bickered, but it was a familiar, almost reflexive feeling he'd developed after years of constantly being in the middle of their rocky relationship.

The aromas of various spices greeted him down the hall before he made it to the kitchen, causing a low grumble in his empty stomach. He could hear the fan that hung over the stove as well as the soft closing of cabinets. As expected, Alfred had taken over the entire space with his cooking, moving back and forth between the large pot on the stovetop and vegetables on the counters with the ease and skill of a man who'd been doing this for years—because, well, that was literally the case for him.

"Need any help?" Dick offered, though he already knew he would dismiss it.

"You should be spending time with them, Master Dick," Alfred simply answered as he focused on dumping the chopped vegetables from the board into the boiling pot. "I must say I find it concerning you left those two alone together."

Leaning against the counter nearby and crossing his arms, Dick raised a brow. "You've noticed, huh?" He reached over and snatched a small, cut piece of carrot that hadn't made it into the pot, earning a mild glare from Alfred.

"Neither of them can so much as sneeze without me knowing if it sounds different than usual."

"Yeah. For two people who tend to bury their feelings, they're not very good at actually hiding them from us."

"I presume you've spoken to Master Damian?" Alfred rubbed a kitchen towel over his hands before looking at Dick. "You've always been the one person who could seem to get through to him."

Dick winced. "That... doesn't always work in my favor. He knows I'm perfectly aware that things are rocky between him and Bruce right now—probably you, too—but you know how he gets. He doesn't prioritize these things the way he should."

_It's not like he was raised to care about things like relationships and people._

Damian had been brought under this roof just almost ten years ago, rough around the edges, violent, reckless, and a huge pain in everyone's ass. Though sometimes he wondered how they'd managed to do it, the family and Dick had found ways to guide him—sometimes nudge and shove—onto a better path. Of course, you could never truly change someone's habits, personality, the very _core_ of them, but Dick had known early on that the child had his heart in the right place, and it was just a matter of digging it out from the ridiculously bloodthirsty and hardened shell that Ra's, Talia, and the League of Assassins had crafted around him. That was why Dick was one of the very few people Damian opened up to let alone trusted wholeheartedly—the older man had given him the benefit of the doubt when everyone else seemed to turn their backs.

But a relationship like theirs that was built on trust and loyalty came with honesty, too. Neither of them had a problem being blunt and truthful since they'd met, whether it came to family or their second life, and Damian had even told him in the past that it was one of the reasons he respected Dick. Though Dick was kinder and more empathetic, he could easily match the young hero's cut-and-dry, hard truths when the situation called for it. (It was how he'd guided him through adolescence with the number of girlfriends and even fewer friends Damian had had.)

"I'm sure you've been nudging him as you always do," Alfred answered with the hint of a smile. Turning back to the stove, he added, "Though I suspect Master Damian's issue lies within himself and not his father."

"How so?"

"As you may remember, the last time he left to assist the Titans or the League was last fall."

Dick frowned, readjusting his stance against the kitchen counter. "You think he's just impatient and getting bored here in Gotham?"

He figured it could make sense, considering Damian's new "hobbies" he'd picked up for the next few weeks.

Alfred shrugged as he stirred the pot, the steam wafting upwards in the air. "I don't know, Master Dick. He has never expressed desire to seek out another joint mission—to me, at least—and I've never heard him discuss it with his father either. I doubt he would be doing what he is now, getting out of the manor and keeping busy, if that were truly his problem."

He had a point. When Damian wanted in on some kind of mission, he made that clear to Bruce and anyone else necessary, essentially butting his stubborn head into the business and securing himself a spot on the team. If Damian Wayne wanted something, he went for it... but assuming it was true that he really hadn't sought out these joint missions for several months now, then something else entirely was the reason for his behavior. Granted, the kid was still somewhat averse to teamwork and playing well with others, but there was never a dull day when it came to "hero work," so the reason couldn't be that there simply wasn't a city or country or world to save. Their world and its inhabitants, in Dick's eyes, always needed saving.

So what was it that made Damian start clashing with Bruce again, particularly with their closed case involving that meta-human girl?

"When did this start?" Dick wanted to get a feel for how things had been under this roof because of the friction between the two Waynes, especially for Alfred, who probably had wanted to stay out of it.

"It was worse several weeks ago; neither of them would acknowledge the other and would go as far as remaining on opposite ends of the manor." The butler shook his head, then sighed. "Lately, things seem to have calmed down, or they simply have brushed it under the rug—I wouldn't dare say they've actually resolved anything. They can stand to be in the same room and do speak to each other, but the tension is so obvious. It's merely civil interactions at this point."

Taking another piece of carrot from the cutting board, Dick gave the man he considered his grandfather an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry you've had to deal with them acting like this. It's not fair to you."

He'd moved out of the manor a long time ago, but it was during moments like these he wished he was still around, still here with them.

"Oh, you already know I—_we_ have faced worse than this. But it's not fair to them either or even you, Master Dick. Don't feel like you must always solve their conflicts for them."

"That's on me, Alfred. Sometimes I just can't help helping them," Dick admitted with a light grin.

"And that's why they're very lucky to have you. They shouldn't take you for granted."

"Hey, same goes for you!"

"You are absolutely correct because if this goes on any longer, I will personally lock them in one of these rooms until they've made amends."

Chuckling, Dick shook his head and pushed himself off the counter, starting towards the doorway that led into the hall. "I wouldn't put it past you. But in all seriousness, I'll see if I can get Damian to let me in. This is pretty much the main reason I decided to come visit—that and I wanted to see you guys, of course."

"Whatever you plan on doing, don't do it tonight," Alfred told him as he reached to turn off the stove. His eyes met Dick's then, softened to a gaze that pulled at the younger man's heartstrings for some reason. "I can tell they are both happy to see you, as am I, and you've just arrived. Let's have dinner."

And Dick knew he was right. He wasn't here on some kind of mission that needed to be accomplished by a certain deadline... he was here to be a big brother and a son, to be with family, and that alone took priority over trying to get something useful out of Damian about his unspoken struggle. Having dinner together was probably much needed, and he definitely preferred it to doing anything else that would likely piss Damian off.

Unless he had a death wish.

* * *

Hours later, Damian and Dick were in the home theater, some blockbuster action movie playing on the large screen as they lounged across one of the sofas. Titus was sitting between the two of them, his head laying across Dick's lap as the man subconsciously gave him love, scratching behind his ears and only half-paying attention to the movie. Neither of the two had been really watching it for that matter, mostly talking over the film and catching up.

Dinner had gone relatively well—there'd been no arguments, no poisonous glares, no death threats. While Damian and Bruce didn't actually speak much with each other, it seemed everyone was at least enjoying Dick's presence and asking about him and his own life and family. It might not have been like the way things used to be, but it was enough.

Brown eyes were half squinted in satisfaction as Dick continued to rub Titus's head, and he examined the dog, musing, "You've lived a long life, haven't you, Titus?"

The dog's eyes peered up at him, ears twitching at the sound of his name. At the other end of the couch, Damian was looking over at Dick and then down at his companion. "He's getting old," he said simply, though Dick could hear something in the young man's voice that he hadn't heard in a while. "He no longer runs as fast as he used to nor is his endurance the same when we're outside."

Dick didn't respond. He just continued petting the dog, watching as his younger brother stared at Titus, his own hand rubbing along his back with a faraway look in those green eyes, like he was actually engulfed in his own thoughts...

Clearing his throat, Dick then asked, "Are you still going out on patrol tonight?" Maybe a change of subject was in order.

"In a few hours," Damian answered, gaze landing back on the screen where an intense, CGI-packed car chase was taking place. "But Father is attending some late-night gala with Selina, which is perfectly fine with me as I prefer going out alone anyway."

Dick already knew Bruce had been letting his son patrol on his own more often lately, and it was frequent enough to the point that the two of them were together probably no more than two, maybe three nights a week now. Though neither of them had really admitted it, Dick assumed that whatever was going on between them was a major reason for this distance. Sure, Wayne Enterprises was going through some major financial and bureaucratic changes, requiring more of Bruce's time and efforts, but those things had never stopped the man from devoting the same (if not more) energy to his night job.

But now that Dick was here, intent on spending time with them and hearing that Damian was going to patrol on his own again, perhaps this was another opportunity to doing things for old times' sake. Plus, he didn't like the tone he was hearing in the young man's voice, one that he hadn't heard from him since—

"Want some company?"

Damian glanced over at him, a thin brow raising. "You brought your gear with you?"

"As if _you_ don't bring yours everywhere you go," Dick retorted smoothly. "But if you'd rather I stay out of the way, I won't complain."

He seemed to contemplate the offer for a long moment, looking away from Dick and then back at him. "It _has_ been a while... I guess it could be fun."

Damian followed up with a smirk then, but Dick knew better than to be fooled by it. Maybe he was reading too far into it and making inaccurate observations, but he _knew_ Damian. The faraway look, the hesitation between his answers, how the smirk didn't even reach those eyes… Dick couldn't help feeling like the teen was pretending.

_"He doesn't trust me, Richard."_

_"Did you ever consider that you've been giving him reasons not to?"_

_"I've done everything he's asked of me._ You _trust me… but no one else does. Not Father, not Jason, and certainly not Drake."_

_Green eyes that were narrowed in anger burned holes in the blank wall beside Dick's head, and the older man almost had the comical urge to wave a hand to find out if the young assassin would even see the gesture. But it was clear the 12-year-old's head was anywhere except here._

_"She was right then, wasn't she?"_

_The words left his mouth quietly, much quieter than that typical, assertive, loud voice of his. The contrast immediately struck concern within Dick as he appraised his newest brother, wondering what could possibly make him sound so…. sad._

_"No." He spoke firmly, wanting to counter any thoughts Damian was having about the woman who'd literally and figuratively fought against the new path he'd started walking since arriving under this roof. "She's always been wrong, Damian."_

_"I disagree."_

Of course you do.

_The child—it was always strange and unfitting associating the word "child" with him—finally met Dick's gaze, eyes glittering with something darker and heavier than the glare that always graced them. "She was right about one thing, and I highly doubt even you would dare question it."_

_"And what's that?"_

_In a tight voice, Damian said, "He is capable of love and capable of showing it. The only problem is that he reserves that effort for being what Gotham needs as opposed to being what_ we _need." A pause, then, even quieter, "And that is why we—and you—insist we don't require anything from him…. We convince ourselves that he depends on us but not the other way around."_

_There was a brief flash of something across his face as he continued to stare at Dick. "Because it hurts less that way, doesn't it?"_

Damian turned back to the screen, face and eyes reflecting with the bright colors of the movie as he reached for the half-empty bowl of popcorn beside him. With the memory still fresh in the back of his mind, Dick found himself hoping he'd be able to help the young man lift whatever troubles were weighing down on his shoulders… because he had only ever seen him like this a handful of other times when things had been so rough that even Damian Wayne was truly _struggling._

_"The only problem is that he reserves that effort for being what Gotham needs as opposed to being what we need."_

_Then what is it that you need, Damian?_

If there was anything Dick had really learned about the kid who'd been trained to be a lethal weapon and nothing more, it was that he was more human than many people had given him credit for. The evidence was right there, in front of Dick's eyes; it had been there in the past when the young Wayne-al Ghul attempted to navigate the different forms of love people were giving him: the disagreements over right versus wrong and moral truths with Bruce, the literal torturous demands and tasks his mother put him through, the compassion Dick had tried to give, even the attempts by former girlfriends who never knew that the other half of his life would explain why Damian was the way he was.

And through all those years, through the brotherly bond they'd formed that Dick had embraced, there was at least one thing he hated seeing… which was Damian Wayne, his little brother no matter how much he grew up, in pain.

_"Because it hurts less that way, doesn't it?"_

He hadn't answered him back then, but he had one for him now.

_No. It'll hurt just as much either way._

* * *

**Note: **hope this chapter was enjoyable! needed to write something showing off Dick and Damian's relationship with a bit of their past sprinkled in there. also, i have a plan for Jason's first appearance but it'll take just _a little_ bit more time and some other things to happen before we get there :D (assuming things work out that way and i don't suddenly change my drafts and go in a completely different direction lol)

thanks again for the reviews, follows, and faves! xx


	12. New Beginnings

**Chapter 12: New Beginnings**

Between Jess's schedule and Misty's much busier life, the two of them hadn't had a chance to do anything together aside from the few nights they'd grabbed dinner or breakfast together at the facility. That didn't count though, according to the black-and-pink-haired teen, as hanging out, so when they'd realized they both had Sunday afternoon free, Misty insisted on taking her new roommate to some of her favorite spots in Gotham.

The first destination of interest was some gaming arcade that she'd apparently been going to for a few years. Jess had been a mild, intermediate gamer when she was younger, having owned a console or two, but she was by no means an expert at anything she'd ever played. Regardless, she was open to checking the place out, eager to do something different that didn't have to do with books or searching for decent job offers.

She was currently standing in front of the floor-length mirror Misty had recently brought in and stood up against the wall—unfortunately right next to her Batman poster, so he was practically _staring_ at Jess—pulling her hair back into a smooth, high ponytail.

"So is he hot?"

Jess, turning to glance at her with both hands working the scrunchie around her hair, asked, "Huh?" They hadn't spoken in the last several minutes while she finished getting ready, and Misty was waiting patiently until they'd leave.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed with a lollipop in her hand (Jess had learned the girl had a _major_ sweet tooth), having changed into a dark purple t-shirt dress, Misty clarified, "The dude you said you're helping at the library."

"_Matthew?"_ Her nose scrunched up at the idea of "hot" and "Matthew" being in the same sentence. "Um, ew."

"Oh my god, no, not the librarian," Misty snorted. "I meant the guy you're helping, like, with the shelving or whatever. Damian? Isn't that his name?"

"Ohh..." Jess saw the chiseled face in her mind's eye, the piercing green eyes, and wondered why the other girl was even asking. "Well, yeah, you could say he's nice to look at."

"So he's not ugly or just 'okay'? Like medium-ugly? He's actually attractive?"

A short laugh escaped from her just as she stepped away from the mirror, satisfied that her ponytail had no bumps or flyaways. "'Medium-ugly'?" Jess repeated, reaching for the sneakers at the foot of her bed. "I've never heard that before. Why do you ask?"

Misty sighed as she twirled the lollipop in her mouth. "Pretty much every hot guy in Gotham is a douche or really dense, so I wonder which of those Damian is then. But based on what you said about him, he sounds like he's more of a douche, and you also mentioned he seems pretty smart."

Jess's shoulders quickly moved upwards in a shrug as she sat at the edge of her bed, tying her shoelaces. "I don't really know him at all, but he can definitely come off like a jerk sometimes. I don't think he does it on purpose though—he's just naturally that way."

"Hmm. Maybe that just makes him that much hotter."

As they left their room and traveled through the facility hallways, Misty then said, "Well hey, you never know, maybe you and him will hit it off. Some girls are into the whole 'asshole that treats you like shit' personality." She turned to Jess and raised her filled-in eyebrows. "Are you into that? I'm not into that, but it's cool if you are."

Jess smiled shyly and shook her head. "I've actually never been in a relationship... Even if I was, I would hope it wouldn't be with a guy who's an ass."

_Plus, I'm way out of his league in every department, not just physical looks._

"Good. I was lying when I said it'd be cool if you're into that. I've had friends and known too many girls who, unfortunately, had to be in that position."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's also a few years older than me, so that's kind of weird but also illegal..." Jess mentioned with a laugh, pushing the door open to an overcast Gotham.

"Okay, but like, is he just generically hot like a magazine model or _hot_ as in, you'd lick whipped cream off him?"

She couldn't help the funny-sounding snort that escaped from her, turning to give the other girl a wide-eyed look of awe. "Why are you so interested?"

There was an audible crack as Misty bit into her lollipop while they hit the sidewalk and began in the direction of the arcade. Keeping her gaze ahead of her, she answered, "Maybe I'm a little bored of the single life and am curious about this dude. If he really is 18 or older though, then whatever, I could scope out someone at this party next week." She turned to look at Jess then, excitement lighting up her dark eyes that were rimmed with purple eyeshadow. "Which you're coming to, by the way."

"I am?"

"Mhm. You said you're new to Gotham, so what better way to explore it and get to know some of the people than a party?"

_A party, huh?_

Jess had never gone to a single party back in Central City that wasn't supervised some way… like game celebrations for hockey or just a simple birthday or graduation. She could only assume Misty was referring to _those_ parties, the ones where underage teens drank alcohol, probably dabbled in recreational drugs, and did every unimaginable thing that adults didn't want them to do. If she'd been asked to attend two or three years ago, she would have been indifferent to the invitation and couldn't care less about participating in such activities.

"Alright, sure," Jess then said with a shrug.

But she wasn't the same Jess that she'd been those few years ago—she was far from it with a clean slate, in a new city, where Misty and no one else had any idea what she was like or she used to be. Not a soul here would know whether going to this party, let alone any choice she made here in Gotham, was characteristic of Jessica Fairchild or not.

And the thought kind of gave her a thrill.

The two teenagers arrived at the arcade some time and lots of walking later, joining the stream of other teens and younger children filtering in to the large, brightly-lit building with neon signs. Immediately, the recognizable pings and beeps of various games and the headache-inducing mixture of triumphant shouts and screaming children greeted them as they entered the lobby. Beyond the tables littered with food and overpriced prizes left behind were games upon games, their flashing lights and bright screens holding kids' attentions while their parents stood by, either partaking in the chaos or glancing impatiently at their phones. Something whooshed right past her legs, a toddler running past while a woman mumbled a pardon, hurrying between her and Misty.

"Charlie!" she called after the child, eliciting a smile from Jess as she watched.

"Come on. We get our cards over here," Misty then announced, tilting her head in the direction of a kiosk that a number of teens were surrounding.

The faint smell of hotdogs and pretzels grew stronger as the girls fell into line behind them, and a quick glance around told Jess there was a food counter near another counter manned by employees handing out stuffed animals and water guns to the kids exchanging their tickets.

Once they'd each gotten a card with the arcade's currency to play the games, Misty dropped her empty lollipop stick into a trash can and turned to Jess. "Tell me, Jess, you got some competitive spirit?"

Laughing, Jess gave a haughty shrug. "I grew up doing competitive sports, so yeah, you could say so."

The other girl regarded her with mischievous eyes that glittered with the reflection of game lights. "Cool, because you're about to get your ass whooped in one of my favorite shooter games!"

The pink-and-black-haired teen was already taking off, her small figure practically disappearing as she forced her way through a mob of teenage boys taking up a large amount of space, taking them by surprise. Jess called out a "Sorry!" as she followed the other girl's exact path, almost laughing at the irritated scowls she received from them.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, but the two of them continuously bounced from game to game, keeping score of wins and losses. Though Jess didn't lose by too many points, Misty did keep to her playful threat and ended up winning the game with bad graphics that she supposedly loved so much. Traveling through the large arcade, the two of them tried anything and everything, eventually losing track of who was leading the score because it didn't even really matter. It'd been such a long time that she'd actually had _fun_ like this, Jess was in a little bit of disbelief. Despite all the trouble and negativity in the past few months—well, _years_ if she wanted to go there—of her life, not once did she even think about any of that here.

Misty was a little weird, sure, but Jess was growing confident enough to say she was getting along with her pretty well at this point. The girl had an amusing sense of humor and, as she'd learned today, she wasn't a bad sport when it came to losing. Jess had encountered enough people growing up who couldn't take a loss and didn't see the joy in simply playing the game or doing the hobby for the love of it.

_But you don't know if you can trust her, do you?_

That stupid voice had been in the back of her mind since arriving back in Gotham, reminding her of the mistake that had landed her in this position. But like she'd been doing this whole time, she ignored it, telling herself she wouldn't worry about anything like that right now. If she let those doubts start swimming in her consciousness, if she thought too long about the people she'd broken the law with, it did nothing but drag her into an emotional pit of guilt about the past and anxiety about the future.

And who wanted to dwell in any of that? Not her. Not when she just wanted to be… _normal_… as normal a teenager could possibly be while serving community service hours in a city she didn't know.

"Alright, I think I need to refuel," Misty sighed some time later, turning to the blue-haired teen who was tossing her last basketball into the hoop at the back of the game machine. It rolled around the rim a few times before falling outside the basket.

Frowning in mild disappointment, Jess turned to face her and agreed, "Yeah, I can go for a drink or something."

There weren't many people at the food counter, luckily, so they were able to order rather quickly—a fountain drink for Jess and a cheeseburger for Misty. Occupying an empty table with a view of the front doors, they sat with their phones in hand, scrolling mindlessly and discreetly laughing at teens that were getting angry at the games or small children who were driving their parents and siblings insane.

"I've never been to Central City. Is it cool?" Misty asked before taking a large bite of her burger.

"It's cooler for tourists than it is for people who actually live there," Jess answered, "but I guess that's kind of how it goes for anywhere."

With a nod, the other girl replied, "Makes sense. I feel the same about here. It seems like a lot of people come to visit Gotham just because of its reputation, but I've been here all my life and have come to appreciate it with all its flaws, y'know?"

No, Jess didn't really quite "know" because she already had her own preconceived notions about this city, based on the trouble she'd helped stir up months ago and the consequences she was facing as a result of them. Even if she was doing what she could to focus on the idea of starting anew while serving her time, the things she'd done, the hurt she'd inflicted, the laws she'd broken, still hung in the air at every corner while she walked around in Gotham—it was like the city was almost taunting her.

Her sins, despite her current efforts to atone for them and wash them away, were still alive and breathing in her own mind while she adjusted to living in the very place she'd committed them.

"What's this party about that you were talking about?" Jess decided to change the subject, wanting to direct conversation away from talk about her hometown or anything related to her own life.

"A couple people I know from school are just having a get-together at one of the guys' house," Misty explained casually before taking a long sip from her straw. She waved around a hand as she added, "They always try to keep it exclusive to, like, twenty people, but then word gets around and it turns into a full house party, so don't be surprised if we show up and there's a shit ton of teenagers.

I'll introduce you to a couple people, but don't worry, everyone is chill. I don't associate myself with the annoying idiots you see posting stupid dance videos on social media or the stereotypical snobs and jocks."

"Snobs and jocks exist?" Jess joked with a grin.

"Um, yes. It's literally every teen drama or coming-of-age movie out there sometimes."

Shaking her drink and hearing the ice shuffle inside, Jess answered, "Well, I'm open to checking it out. I'm still trying to figure out some things to occupy my time, like getting a job..." She pursed her lips at the thought, about to ask Misty if the coffee shop she worked at was hiring, but when she glanced up, the girl was staring at something in the distance. Had she even heard what she'd said?

"Speaking of knowing people from school..." Misty said in a low voice, eyes still trained on whatever had caught her attention.

Jess followed her gaze until her own sight landed on the familiar figure of none other than—

"You see that guy over there in the black, long-sleeved shirt? With black hair? That's Damian Wayne. I went to school with him—never thought it was possible, but he's gotten ten times hotter since the last time I saw him."

Misty's words were barely registering in Jess's mind as the blue-haired teen stared at Damian, who was standing in front of one of the shooter games the two girls had played earlier, his arms crossed. Next to him was a tall, dark-haired man who was likely in his early or mid-thirties, grinning as he said something to the young man and earning an eye roll from him. Even at this distance, she could easily identify the characteristic glare and the furrowing of his brows.

_What are the chances I'd see him here?_

"Yo. Jess?"

"That's him," she managed to say, tearing her gaze away and looking at Misty, who was appraising her with one eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Damian. Guy from library. That's him." Apparently, she couldn't even form a proper sentence, her brain too muddled while processing the fact that the Damian she knew was also a Damian that _Misty_ knew from school.

The other girl's eyes widened before glancing over at the guy and his companion and then snapping back to Jess. "Well, damn," was all she said as she sat back and continued to trade her gaze between the two like she had to make sure the coincidence was real. "You know how you never really answered my question about whether he's generically attractive or the type of guy you'd lick whipped cream off of?"

Jess said nothing, hazel eyes flickering in Damian's direction for the briefest second and then meeting Misty's again.

Misty was suddenly leaning forward across the table then, the ends of her hair almost dipping into the leftover ketchup and mustard on her paper plate, eyes pinning Jess in place. "I would lick _motor oil_ off this guy if he asked me to," she urged in an intense tone, making Jess give her a slight look of disgust and lean back away from her.

"That's... gross."

"What it is is an explanation of how attractive he is," she said matter-of-factly, straightening back up and reaching for her drink. "I should've known you were talking about Damian _fucking_ Wayne." Misty shook her head, proceeding to sip at her straw until the slurp noises indicated the cup was empty.

"You went to school with him?"

"Yeah, Gotham Academy, school for the rich kids and all. I was in the ninth grade when he graduated," Misty answered, and then her eyes bugged yet again as she added, "which means he has to be nineteen or something!"

_Nineteen?_

There was no way. She could've sworn he was in his early twenties _at the youngest_ with that build, that physique, that air of maturity. How could he be within a few years of her but act like a whole generation older?

"This is... wild." Jess shook her head in disbelief, suddenly hoping he wasn't going to notice her presence.

The older man said something else, still wearing his grin, and Damian _smiled_... nearly _laughed_ if whatever joke had been made had been a little bit funnier. Jess stared on, clearly shaken by the new discovery on top of seeing Damian actually make a facial expression that was happy and not from his arsenal of unamused stares and piercing scowls.

"I'm pretty sure that's one of his brothers, the oldest one I think," Misty spoke up.

Jess, whose brows were scrunched together in confusion, turned to her. "What do they do? Like, why is their family loaded?"

The look of incredulity that overtook Misty's face made her feel like she'd asked a dumb question.

"Are you...?" The other girl gave a sigh of exasperation, bringing her hand to her forehead and then saying in a tired tone, "_Wayne_ is his last name. His dad is Bruce Wayne."

Understanding washed over her as Jess put two and two together and finally understood why her newfound friend had given her that look; she _had_ asked a dumb question. She might not have been a native Gothamite, but she certainly knew who Bruce Wayne was—not much, but enough for it to make complete sense that Damian was driving around an Aston Martin like it was nothing. His dad owned that giant, looming tower in the middle of the city called Wayne Enterprises.

_They probably have a handful of Aston Martins sitting at their home with the whole ass library he'd mentioned. Hell, he and his brother probably drove one here. _

"You should say hi."

"Say—? No. Why would I do that?"

"Because you know him?" Misty answered in a "duh" tone, gesturing in the direction of Damian and his brother, where they had just begun playing the game with its plastic guns.

"It seems like he's here to spend time with his brother. I don't want to interrupt."

Dark eyes rolled at her so dramatically, she almost laughed. "You literally just have to say 'Hi,' and that's it," Misty told her. "No need for conversation unless he starts it, though, I would be really surprised if he did. I'm pretty sure I've only heard him say a few words before." With a casual shrug, she mused, "That broody-ness makes him so much sexier, I swear."

"Why don't _you_ say hi since you're the one who knows him from school?" Jess challenged, arching a brow.

"Because I've only known _of_ him—I never actually spoke to him. Probably doesn't even know I exist, which is totally fine 'cause I'm good with gawking from afar." Misty paused before narrowing her inquisitive gaze. "You, on the other hand, have gotten as close as working at the library with him and talking to him."

Standing from the table and grabbing her empty cup, Jess suggested with a smile, "Instead of worrying about him, why don't we go play air hockey and _I_ can whoop _your_ ass?"

Thankfully, Misty didn't seem like she was going to continue peer pressuring her; with an exaggerated sigh, she followed suit and got up to walk to the trash can, saying, "Fine. You're on."

Air hockey was the closest thing to real ice hockey that she'd played in years—last time she'd been on ice was before the car accident, and the arcade game was just so _lame_ compared to the real thing. Yet Jess's eyes were trained intensely on the plastic puck that bounced up and down the table with loud clicks, almost as if it were an actual game and she was back in her gear playing offensively like old times. Misty's reflexes were slower in contrast to the other skill she'd displayed while shooting a fake gun. Soon enough, Jess had won three times against her, and it was during the fourth game that she was more excited and pumped than before, high on her winning streak.

When it boiled down to it, she was still chasing and shooting a puck, and that certainly wasn't any different than what she'd done before. The little red disc slid towards her—one solid swipe of her matching red striker and it shot across the table so hard it rebounded off the edge near Misty's goal, flipped into the air, then hit the carpeted floor and rolled away.

Both girls looked at each other with their mouths open in laughter and surprise. Jess took off in the direction it'd gone, breaking into a light jog to see if she could find the small, red object past walking feet and under bright, flashing lights. She found it, still rolling, several yards away until it found a resting spot underneath a row of pinball machines, and luckily, no one was playing any of them, which meant no one would witness her getting down on her hands and knees to crawl underneath.

Hand snatching the puck, Jess backed up carefully, keeping her head low to avoid hitting it on the bottom of the pinball tables—she scrunched her nose at the candy wrappers and crumbs that'd found their way to this part of the carpet—when she then heard:

"Jessica?"

A pair of sneakers were a few feet away to her left, just on the other side of the pinball table that she was retreating from, and as soon as she'd backed out just a few more inches to see the inquisitive, green eyes assessing her, Jess straightened up reflexively and hit the top of her head on the edge of the table.

"… Ow," she muttered with a wince before lowering her head again so she could properly (and safely) stand up.

_Why… does this keep… happening to me?_

A light throbbing radiated from the area of impact as Jess dusted herself off and then looked up to Damian watching her with what could've been an amused look. His mouth was set in a straight line, but his eyes hinted that he was either laughing at her or just wondering what the hell she was doing.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gaze landing briefly on her head.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered dismissively with a wave of her hand. "How'd you know that was me down there?"

"Your hair is rather distinctive."

"Oh, right," she laughed lightly before glancing down at the puck as if realizing she was still carrying it.

Damian lifted a brow, his eyes on the puck in her hand. "Air hockey?"

"Yeah, I've been playing a few games with a friend. Got a little excited and hit it too hard, then... well." She gestured towards the pinball tables with a shrug. "Wanna play?" Jess suddenly asked.

But Damian simply shook his head. "I prefer more challenging games and activities."

'_More challenging...'?_

Eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement, she asked, "Really? How do you mean?"

"Not many of these games here require much skill," he answered simply as if it were just a known fact. He glanced around at their surroundings, the enthusiastic arcade goers and loud machinery. "Some are meant for you to fail and continue gambling your chances, others just take a little hand-eye coordination."

"Air hockey doesn't require some hand-eye coordination or skill?"

"It does." Shrugging, Damian added, "But not much. If you can aim and have decent reflexes, it merely comes down to who misses the shot or the puck."

_Huh_. It hadn't struck her till now, but he definitely seemed like the kind of guy who was good at pretty much anything... and made sure to tell you about it. Not that his comments about air hockey necessarily bothered her—Jess actually kind of agreed in some ways—but that arrogance she picked up on when they had first met was manifesting now in the way he offered his opinions about arcade games.

There was a familiar spark of energy in her, similar to what she'd felt back when she suggested they played a mini version of 20 Questions during their impromptu lunch. It wasn't quite like the competitive excitement she'd experienced while having fun with Misty; this was different because Damian and his haughty barrier that he was surrounded by were just _begging_ to be challenged. After all, it'd worked when she said they could ask questions that weren't personal and about their past—apparently poking a little fun was just enough to get him to try and have the last word.

And for someone who enjoyed a bit of competition here and there as much as Jess did, it was an opportunity she couldn't ignore. What was Damian Wayne like when he was the loser?

Curiosity piqued, Jess crossed her arms and met his gaze. "So you don't play it as much as anything else around here?"

"Correct."

"And you're sure that's not just because you're bad at it?"

Despite her immediate thought that maybe she should have worded that differently, it gave her the reaction she'd anticipated: emerald green eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they narrowed in a steely gaze. Damian didn't appear annoyed or pissed off though... no, his glare was calculating, maybe even with a little awe in there.

Just as his mouth opened, the man who Misty had said was Damian's brother walked up, stopping beside Damian.

A drink in his hand, he started saying, "There you—Oh. Hi there." He gave her a smile, splitting a curious glance between the two.

Jess gave him a shy wave, eyes flickering back to Damian and watching his expressions as the young man turned to him but didn't say a word. That look was still on his face, though it'd softened the slightest bit at his brother's arrival.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" the older man asked.

"Dick, this is Jessica. Jessica, this is Dick," Damian introduced, something peculiar glinting in his gaze.

Kind, blue eyes welcomed her as he stepped forward to shake her hand. He was definitely handsome—good genes obviously ran in this family—with dark hair that was slightly longer than Damian's and, interestingly, was not much taller than him. They both must've been just shy of six feet, several inches taller than Jess.

"You can just call me Jess," she informed him, wondering why Damian apparently didn't want to use her shortened name.

Dick nodded, still smiling kindly. "Nice to meet you, Jess." He turned back to Damian, his grin turning into something that made him look impressed... but by what?

"How do you know each other?" he then asked, using his cup to gesture between the two of them.

"The library." Damian's voice was flat as he answered, gaze resting coolly on the older man. "We were just about to play a game of air hockey," he then informed him, the corner of his mouth lifting at the smug look crossing Jess's face.

_Ha. I knew it._

Dick's brows shot up as he glanced over at her and then back at his younger brother, like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "Oh? I'd love to see that." Directing his words at Jess, he urged, "Please beat him 'cause he's won everything against me so far today."

"I'm a decent shot," she returned with a shrug and a laugh, feeling Damian's eyes on her.

As they headed back to the air hockey tables, Jess spotted Misty sitting on the edge of the one they'd been playing at, scrolling through her phone. When the girl looked up, her mouth opening to most likely scold Jess for taking too long or make some witty comment, her eyes landed on the newcomers trailing behind Jess, effectively rendering her speechless for a good moment or two.

The shock on her face was very brief though; Misty quickly recovered with an entertained smile as she turned her gaze towards Jess. "You run off for the puck and return with two guys, Jess. I see how it is."

Refraining from rolling her eyes, Jess held up the puck and waved it around. "If you don't mind, Damian and I are gonna play a game."

Another flash of surprise passed over Misty's face before she handed Damian the striker she'd been using. "Be my guest. I was getting tired of losing to her."

"Hey, see? Someone who gets my pain." Dick gestured towards Misty as he looked at Damian, who didn't even respond to him.

"I know you from somewhere," Damian was saying, his eyes slightly narrowed at the pink-and-black-haired girl.

Misty waved her hand casually. "We went to the academy together," she answered smoothly, then shrugged. "Honestly, I'm surprised you recognize me. It's Damian, right? I'm Misty."

He nodded shortly as he bent to swipe his game card at the card reader, finding that Jess had already beaten him to it. That slight smile still on her face, she took up position at one end of the table, and Damian followed suit, both of them leaning forward in anticipation.

"This'll be good," she heard Misty chuckle quietly nearby.

* * *

Just over sixty seconds later, when the table's air shut off and a brief beep signaled the end of the game, the scoreboard read 15-12. Jess had won.

"Damn," Dick commented from his position by Damian, his brows raised as he looked between his little brother and Jess, impressed.

A satisfied grin on her face, Jess set the striker down and straightened up, glancing up at her opponent. He was wearing his usual glare, but it was hardened in the same way it'd been when she had taunted him earlier. "You got lucky," was all he said in a blunt tone.

She could tell he was clearly miffed at losing, particularly after he'd just boasted about the game not being as "challenging" as anything else he played. Air hockey wasn't all that hard, Jess agreed, but it was the fact that she'd successfully won against him after that banter that was rewarding.

With an exaggerated shrug, she answered dryly, "I said I'm a decent shot. And you didn't think it took a little skill."

"We'll say that was a warm-up round." Damian's callous eyes might have made her a little uncomfortable on any other day before today, yet Jess was running on confidence, gratified by the one win in front of her friend and his brother.

"Not gonna lie—I wish I'd gotten that on camera." Dick seemed unfazed by the daggers Damian's gaze threw at him as he sipped casually at his drink.

Misty hadn't said anything yet, too amused by the young man's reaction to his unexpected loss. She wasn't hiding her smile though, arms crossed as she shook her head at Jess as if in disbelief that the girl had beaten Damian _and_ annoyed him by it.

Though she didn't care about that in particular, the competitiveness and jeering was all in good fun. Even as they started another game—this time, Damian managing to swipe his card before she did—Jess had a feeling he was still having a good time underneath that brooding, disgruntled demeanor. Granted she didn't know him that well yet, but something about Dick and Misty's entertained stares and occasional urges of encouragement, the thrill of hitting the puck and scoring it cleanly into the goal, and even Damian's slight but few hints of a smirk from the other side of the table made Jess think this could be the beginning of new, lively yet enthralling friendships.

Despite the doubtful, haunting voice in the back of her mind, there was another one saying that maybe, just maybe, things would be different after all she'd been through.

All she had to do now was not fuck it up.

* * *

**Note: **thank you all sm for the love in the last chapter, i'm so glad you guys liked Dick's POV! i, too, really enjoy his brotherly relationship with Damian, and it's definitely something i intended on exploring for this story from the start. i feel like Dick just offers a different perspective on what our beloved Damian is going through and how their bond plays a role in it.

more DamiJess here and even more in coming chapters, along with some heavier stuff o.O so buckle up!

until next time xx


	13. In Control

"_Keep on playing that song that I don't like_

_I just wanna feel normal for the night_

_Keep on kissing that guy that's not my type_

_I just wanna feel normal for the night_

_I should go, it's getting late_

_But Imma keep dancing 'til I feel okay"_

_~ Sasha Sloan, "Normal"_

* * *

**Chapter 13: In Control**

"'Alma mater.'"

Startled, large hazel eyes landed on Damian as Jess's head whipped towards where he stood behind her, his voice having jolted her from her thoughts. When he'd walked past her sitting at one of the empty library tables near the nonfiction section they'd been working on for the last week, the small magazine she was bent over had caught his eye. Another quick glance over her shoulder and he was both taken aback and intrigued to see it was a crossword puzzle book. A small portion of it was complete with her scrawled handwriting, but even with just a few seconds of looking at it, Damian had the whole thing nearly finished in his head.

"Huh?"

Her brows wrinkled together in bewilderment while she looked him up and down, clearly baffled as to why he was standing there, hands clasped behind his back and spouting a seemingly random word at her.

Damian nodded at the book her hands were pressed over. "Nine-across. It's 'alma mater.'"

It took a moment for her to glance at the page and consider what he'd said, but the realization soon had her brows lifting with thrilled surprise as she immediately filled in the boxes with her blue pen. He came around the table and sat down across from her, figuring he'd take the remainder of his break here as well.

"Thanks, but... why were you looking over my shoulder?" Jess asked, glancing up at him after writing the answer in the puzzle.

"Curiosity," he answered casually and without a trace of guilt.

She pursed her lips then and looked down at the page, twirling the pen between her fingers and seemingly having no response to his reply.

"I never would have pegged you to be the kind of person who does crossword puzzles."

With a shrug, Jess met his eyes again. "I've been finding new ways to stay busy. It gets irritating and boring being on my phone all the time or just doing things that rely on technology, you know, like streaming tv shows and all that. It's nice to do something different."

"I doubt many teenagers these days could even say they know what a crossword puzzle is."

She sat back in her chair and folded her arms, quirking a single brow. "You're assuming I'm a teenager?"

Damian mirrored her facial expression, lifting a brow, too. "You're saying you're not?"

A beat of silence passed until she leaned back forward and rested her elbows on the table, a light grin on her face. "Nah, you got me. I'm seventeen, still a baby."

Was that her way of saying she was still not a legal adult? He'd never understood people's infatuation with becoming of legal age whether for a driver's license, legal adulthood, or consumption of alcohol and recreational drugs. It was all nonsense anyway—if she was referring to the fact that she wasn't yet a legal adult, he'd have to refrain from giving his unwarranted opinion about how she was still old enough to make her own decisions regardless of law.

And that, of course, would stem from his feelings and thoughts about what she'd done while running around with the gang months ago.

"But I'll be eighteen in September, which will be nice."

"I'm turning twenty in August. Does that make me a baby until then?"

Her eyes seemed to roam his face, a habit he'd noticed that she had picked up recently. Not that it was what his admirers usually did; instead, it felt more like she was trying to gauge how he was feeling, what he was thinking, or how he would react to something she said. It was much like what his father or even Dick did when they were speaking to him about certain subjects. Jess was much more observant than he had expected...

"I really thought you were _at least _twenty-two or something. But no... you don't act even like a typical teenager anyway. I'd say you're far from a 'baby,'" she told him with an almost teasing smile.

The smile took him back to the previous weekend when he and Dick had run into her and her friend Misty at the arcade, unexpectedly spending almost an hour playing games after her bold challenging of his skills. Damian had never been a fan of surprises let alone being wrong, but the experience _had_ left him astonished at, well, multiple things: firstly, Jess had had the audacity to imply he couldn't play air hockey well, something even his own family hesitated to do; secondly, she'd _beaten_ him at their first game (a few games later and she'd still won overall with a score of 4-3); thirdly, Damian actually had... a good time. Despite his annoyance at her poking fun at him as well as winning, he could tell it was good-natured, everything she'd done.

Even Dick had mentioned that he noticed something in their interactions; he'd gone as far as saying "_That's_ how you make friends, Dami," as if the teen didn't know friendships required fun activities and spending actual quality time together. None of this was news to him, even if he hadn't exactly had constant friends that stuck around while growing up, but Damian did recognize that Dick's comments were merely a reminder of the advice he'd given in the past. Though Damian had nearly won every other game against Jess that day, all of it had felt to be in good spirit, including her teasing grins and occasional jabs. It was clear, especially now, that she'd cracked open her walls some more.

But he sensed she was still closed off, more or less in the same way that he was, too. This was Jessica Fairchild, after all, the meta-human teenager who'd used her power against others and depended on criminals to survive and cope with her past. Damian could only imagine she had many reasons not to trust anyone now, including him and Misty, but he had his own reasons for not trusting her either. And that was besides the obvious fact that his trust wasn't earned so easily in the first place.

Oh, it was so much more complex than that.

"Do you get that a lot?"

"Get what?"

She regarded him with an interested, hazel gaze across the table. "People saying you look older than you are."

"They don't tell me directly, but I know that's what many people think." A thought passed through his mind, then he added in an indifferent tone, "Perhaps the most indicative is when women who are years older approach me. They've usually just finished college and are stunned to learn I graduated from Gotham Academy last year."

"You're not into girls who are a little older than you?" Jess asked with a slight grin. "I'd think some guys our age would jump at the opportunity to date a college girl."

"I'm not like 'some guys our age,'" he responded in a dry tone.

"And I wouldn't disagree." She made a sheepish smile, eyes darting down at the crossword puzzle and then back up at him. "But even though I haven't really seen you smile yet, you're not as scary as you first seemed," she joked.

"Tt. You thought I was 'scary'..."

"I'm kidding," she backpedaled, shaking her head and chuckling. "Not 'scary.' That's not the right word, more like... intriguing."

He waited, his silence prompting her to explain what she meant.

Jess continued fiddling with her pen, twirling it between her fingers, dropping it and then picking it up to do it again. "I guess you just seem really serious most of the time. You kinda have this angsty, bad-boy thing going on except not as cringeworthy," she explained, gesturing with her hands.

"You must be awful at reading people if 'scary' and 'bad boy' are the words you use to describe me."

"It's the best I can do, okay?" she defended, though the light laugh that accompanied her words told Damian she wasn't insulted. But there was that slight pink tinge in her cheeks again, as if what he'd said or the topic itself was uncomfortable in some manner.

_"I just don't think you can come to an accurate read on Jessica without actually getting to know her like you would a friend, coworker, classmate, you know."_

Her eyes were glued to the crossword puzzle again although Damian knew it wasn't holding all of her attention; perhaps she was looking at it to avoid eye contact with him for whatever reason. He didn't mind the broken eye contact though—it was going to make the next few words to leave his mouth easier to say.

"Do you like Greek food?"

Her hazel irises flickered back up to him, enlarged in something like wonder. "I mean, I've had a gyro, but I'd be willing to try other stuff. I'll usually eat anything." She then made a face as if thinking quite hard about something. "Except white chocolate. And brussel sprouts."

Damian tilted his head slightly. "Have you ever had Fasolakia Freska?"

Her brows shot up as a comical look of puzzlement fell over her face. "Faso... what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Do you eat green beans and tomatoes?" he rephrased.

"Yeah, I'm not picky. Why?"

The slightest bit of hesitation lingered at his lips before he suggested, "I'm cooking for my family tonight if you'd like to join."

Silence sat between them, Jess's mouth open a little bit as she stared at him, her eyes seeming to dig for a sign that he was joking, or perhaps she was wondering if she'd heard him correctly.

Frankly, Damian shared some of that amazement as well, a feeling he rarely experienced. Yet he'd already been ruminating the idea of asking her to "hang out"... especially since Dick had practically been pestering him about it. Dinner appeared to be a simple and easy solution to that since Damian wasn't particularly interested in any of the things other teens in Gotham did for fun.

Recovering with an eye blink and then a nod of her head, she answered, "Um, sure. If they're fine with me crashing family time—"

"They won't mind."

_I would have someone's head if any of them had the audacity to complain about this._

A smile lifted the corner of her mouth, eyes warm with sudden gentleness. "Okay. Cool."

Glancing down at the crossword puzzle and easily reading it upside down from his position, Damian pointed out, "Twelve-up is 'bourgeois.'"

"Last time I checked, this is _my_ puzzle."

"I could finish this within minutes."

"I'm sure you could."

Neither of them spoke for a long moment as the two of them sat quietly, then, "What did you say twelve-up is again?"

* * *

Damian hadn't mentioned inviting Jess for dinner to his father, Dick, or Alfred. He didn't need permission, first of all, but he also had no desire to hear surprised praises or be made fun of for actually making an effort to have a friend—those reactions would come from his older brother, of course. Besides, the teen was actually quite eager to catch them off-guard instead and prove them, specifically Dick, wrong about his partial inability to form friendships (though it was less of an inability and more of an aversion to the concept).

Jess had insisted he could pick her up from a coffee shop after he offered to provide her a ride. It was a few blocks from the shelter facility he knew she was currently living at, completely unbeknownst to her; Damian had suspected she wouldn't let him retrieve her from there let alone mention it. Was she embarrassed, simply didn't want to talk about living there or perhaps both?

No matter. She was likely going to reveal more about herself if she continued acting openly with him the way she had been lately. And Damian would know if she was lying—she wouldn't know that either.

"So... you said you only have one sibling visiting you?" Jess asked from the passenger seat a few minutes after he'd started heading across the city. She'd changed into a purple, cable-knit sweater with her still-blue hair out of its braid from earlier in the day, the strands falling in slight waves over her shoulders.

"Should I... dress a certain way?" she'd asked before they had parted ways at the library.

"You're assuming that because my family is well-off, we expect—"

"Just answer the question. Yes or no?" Her eye-roll had made him raise an eyebrow and look her outfit up and down: a simple t-shirt, black leggings, and sneakers.

"No," he'd then answered, "your current outfit is fine."

But apparently, she'd made the effort to change clothing anyway, and he couldn't fathom why it mattered to her; he'd seen worse wardrobe choices, and this was no formal dinner in any form.

"Dick visits the most often," Damian spoke up from the driver's seat, eyes steady on the road before him. "The others occasionally make the effort to call but make even less of an effort to actually come around unless it's someone's birthday."

"Oh." Her voice was soft, and he could feel her gaze. "That... sucks."

He shrugged. "It was inevitable considering they are all older and found their own paths. I don't mind the solitude."

_Then why do you feel something when you think about it?_

Jess didn't say anything for a moment, looking out the window as the streets of Gotham turned into a passing tree line the more they approached the city's outskirts. "I always wanted a brother or sister," she mused out loud.

"You say that now, but if you actually had one..."

"Yeah. I guess they do say the grass is always greener on the other side."

Some time and more casual conversation later, they were passing through the large, gated entrance and pulling in to the long driveway that led up to the mansion he'd called home for nearly ten years. Wayne Manor's looming architecture seemed to fade in and grow more prominent from the dark trees surrounding the property, Gotham's lavender and orange sunset a beautiful backdrop behind the home. Several windows were illuminated, small spots of light within the night's incoming darkness and growing clearer as Damian slowed to a stop at the front. When they exited the car, he looked over to see Jess standing and staring up at the massive house, eyes big as she took it all in.

"I certainly hope you won't be walking around the manor gawking like that."

Either she hadn't heard his jab or didn't care—she shook her head and said, "Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this."

As soon as they were through the front door and in the foyer, the familiar padding and clicking of dog paws had Damian squatting just as Titus bounded over first to him and then to the blue-haired stranger nearby.

"Oh my—is this Titus?" Jess's eyes lit up with excitement, a smile stretching across her face while she dropped to her knees and welcomed the bombardment of dog licks and kisses.

Damian hadn't failed to mention his beloved companion when telling her about his family, and she'd expressed an admirable eagerness to meet the pet. She was laughing as the dog sniffed her hair, her face, and even her clothing, a lively demeanor Damian had never seen on her before. The sight had the corner of his mouth tugging into a hidden smile.

He could not blame her.

"Master Damian—"

Alfred, who'd been entering from one of the halls, halted at the image of both Damian and Jess petting and scratching Titus between them, his eyes widening the slightest bit in bewilderment. Not many things took Alfred Pennyworth by surprise, but this apparently did.

Rising to his feet but continuing to scratch behind the dog's ears, Damian coolly said, "Alfred, this is Jessica Fairchild. Jessica, Alfred."

"Hi," she greeted, stepping forward with a hand outstretched. "Oh—um, sorry, dog saliva," she laughed lightly as she wiped her hand on her thigh before shaking the man's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Fairchild," he returned smoothly, eyes landing briefly on Damian with a twinkle in them before meeting Jess's gaze again. "Are you joining us for dinner?"

"I am. Damian was kind enough to tell me he makes some pretty good Greek food."

"I said no such thing—"

"You'll enjoy it. He's quite the cook," Alfred told her with a quick wink.

"I'm counting on it," she responded, grinning.

Both of them turned to look at him then, eliciting first an eye-roll and then a mild glare from Damian. "Is my father or Grayson home?"

"They're on their way as we speak. Would you like to give Miss Fairchild a tour as I prepare the kitchen?"

"Yes, please," the teen responded as he nodded his head towards the staircase. "This way," he said to Jess, who was giving Alfred a small wave as he walked away.

The two ascended the stairs, Titus pouncing up past them and waiting at the top. "It's amazing." Jess's hazel-colored gaze was roaming, swallowing in her surroundings, everything from the high ceilings to the staircase's banister to the wooden floors to the assortment of paintings that graced the walls.

The distracted gaze led to her foot missing the top stair—the toe of her shoe hit it suddenly, and she stumbled for just a moment before catching herself. Damian's hands were outstretched like he'd been about to catch her, the other teen having arrived on the next floor before she did, his sharp eyes evaluating her apparent clumsiness with amusement.

"I haven't shown you a fraction of the manor yet," he said flatly, "and you are already acting like a dolt."

"Did you just call me an idiot?" She quirked a brow as she reached the top of the stairs, feigning being offended. By the way that her gaze was glimmering, Damian knew she, for once, wasn't _actually_ offended or even flustered.

"I meant you are being clumsy, but the words can be used interchangeably, so interpret that as you will."

Jess squinted at him as she crossed her arms. "What about the library you mentioned? I want to see what kind of books gave you that impressive vocabulary of yours."

"Now you're just being facetious." Damian's eyes were half-lidded as he essentially narrowed his gaze to meet hers.

"Oh, come _on._"

"You'll follow me in the direction I intended. The library is at the other end of the manor anyway." He was walking off now, not bothering to look back and see if she was coming.

Damian heard a soft "Come on, boy," and had to refrain from turning his head to glance at her and Titus, yet something about the girl's clear and immediate fondness of his dog was already stirring warmth within his chest.

He ignored it, tucking it away beneath his consciousness as easily as he did the rest of his feelings.

* * *

"Did you learn this yourself or did someone teach you?"

After a quick tour of the manor and more of Jess's ogling of everything from the color of the walls to the number of bedrooms it had—she had been quite impressed by and in awe of the library when they finally reached it, making some lame joke about how she finally understood why he had such an extensive vocabulary—they'd relocated to the large kitchen, where Damian had donned a cooking apron, sleeves rolled up his arms, and was swiftly, expertly chopping onions. Jess sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen, watching him attentively with her hands clasped under her chin. She'd offered to help, but the older teen had refused, making it absolutely clear that no one else touched his cooking because it would be _ruined_—Alfred was the only albeit seldom exception.

"I've taught myself almost everything I know," he answered while pushing the chopped onions from the cutting board into the Dutch oven sitting on the stovetop.

"Can't say I'm surprised," she said, her voice barely audible over the sounds of simmering water and the cooking fan. "Wish I knew how to cook."

"You haven't learned?"

"I watched my parents and picked up a few things, but—" he heard a minuscule change in her voice as she continued, "—never got around to doing more than that."

For a split second, Damian wondered if the conversation was going to lead to her speaking of her parents' deaths, territory he was unsure he wanted to venture into. Eyes glancing over at Jess, he saw that her own gaze had left him and was now focused on something else at the other end of the kitchen, most likely something that existed only in her head. Before he could consider what to say, a third voice was interrupting.

"Well, hey, Dam," Dick greeted from the entryway, a knowing smile alight on his face as he then looked at their guest, "and Jess." The way he included her name sounded different, intentional, like he was emphasizing the fact that he was actually welcoming someone he never thought he would.

"Hi, Dick." The faraway look in her eyes had disappeared, replaced with a smile.

"I thought Alfred was pulling a prank on me when he said you had a friend with you."

_How annoyingly appropriate of a thing for you to say._

"Jessica said she was willing to try Fasolakia Freska," Damian said, ignoring his older brother's eagerness to poke fun at him.

As soon as Dick opened his mouth, another figure appeared behind him, walking through the same entryway. Bruce Wayne, having changed out from his suit and into a simple, long-sleeved sweater, stopped in his tracks as his blue eyes immediately fell on Jess, making the smile on her face slip by just a fraction.

Feeling Dick's expectant eyes on him, Damian continued adding his tomatoes, potatoes, and other ingredients into the simmering oven water, unfazed by his father's appearance as if he hadn't just walked in on his son having someone over… Except it wasn't just _someone_, it was—

"Hi. I'm Jess." She'd stood from her chair to offer her hand, voice wavering slightly in nervousness.

"Welcome, Jess." His tone was kind, calm, unlike the one he used when wearing his mask, one Damian was sure she'd recognize. "I'm Bru—"

"I know."

Those two words had both Damian and Dick's heads turning to look at her, and Bruce's brows rose as he gazed at her curiously.

The blood was rushing to Jess's face; even Damian could see from across the kitchen the pink that was tinting her cheeks as her eyes widened. "I… sorry. I mean, I know who you are. The news and stuff, you know."

"I understand," was all Bruce said, still giving her a friendly smile.

Why she was timid in her reaction to meeting his father, Damian hadn't a clue, but it certainly was nothing new to him. The very few friends and handful of girlfriends that had ever gotten the chance to meet him reacted more or less the same, shy and nervous as if Bruce was some kind of celebrity. And each time, Damian would be unamused and impatient, keen on the moment being over so he could resume his own business.

Yet if anyone's response to Damian having Jess over was at odds with reactions to previous guests he'd invited, it was his father's for sure. As he and Dick launched into casual conversation with her, there was something in the way he talked and looked at Jess—Damian could only infer it had much to do with many things, such as the fact that they _knew_ who she was, that Bruce had formed these preconceived feelings about her since she'd begun stirring trouble in Gotham, that he was perhaps taken aback Damian had actually invited her over despite his previous reservations and opinions. Yes, his father had made some efforts now and then to get to know and speak with Damian's guest, but this was not the same.

The blue-haired teen was not just another temporary friend or another girlfriend Damian had decided to bring home. Without knowing it at all, Jess was someone all three heroes in that kitchen knew nearly everything about, and that truth alone set this situation apart from the other times Damian had introduced someone to his family. Even now, just minutes after meeting Jess, Bruce's demeanor seemed more inviting and welcoming than he'd been. _Which is, for some reason, horribly irritating._ Damian could tell merely by listening and observing as he continued his task in the kitchen. The man's relaxed but small smile and the gentle tone in his voice were almost too good to be true... especially after weeks of thinly-veiled tension between him and his son.

Bruce didn't have to say a single word to Damian (rather, he only had to interact with Jess), and the young Wayne already had a fairly good idea about he was taking this.

"I'll be finished in eight minutes," he announced, interrupting whatever nonsense Dick was rambling about. "Grayson, the table—"

"Has already been set," Dick answered smoothly.

Hardened, green eyes met cool, blue ones. "Titus—"

"Already had his dinner."

Clearing his throat, Bruce's gaze flickered between everyone in the room before resting on his eldest. "Dick, why don't we sit and wait at the table?"

As perceptive as Dick was, he could be utterly clueless at times. Damian was (almost) grateful for his father catching on to his impatience.

Bruce started heading towards the doorway, and understanding then dawned on Dick's features. "Sure thing," he said with another quick grin before disappearing behind the man from the kitchen.

Satisfied with their absence and allowing the food to continue cooking in the oven, Damian leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, eyes meeting Jess's as she made her way back to the island. "Your dad seems nice," she said, spinning back and forth on the stool she sat on.

"Mm," was all he responded, mind still astray with thoughts about what his father could be thinking about her being here in the manor. _Does this prove my doubts about his handling of the case have little to do with her?_ A small part of him anticipated that Bruce would approach him, but perhaps there was a chance he'd leave it alone, leave _Damian_ alone and keep his nose out of the teen's business.

Those thoughts left his mind as quickly as they'd come though, and soon enough, everyone was gathered and occupying one end of the long dinner table. Bruce was at the head, both of his sons on either side with Jess next to Damian and Alfred by Dick. Praise for the younger Wayne's cooking had been passed around the table, Jess offering her own impressed comment about the foreign dish she'd never tried before. The conversation between bites had remained light and casual for the most part—there seemed to be a silent agreement among the family that any of the tension and unease (between Bruce and Damian, truthfully) would be nonexistent with the presence of a stranger under their roof.

"Jess, I have to know: how fun is it putting books on a shelf with this guy?" Dick asked her, nodding his head at Damian, who shot him a glare from across the table.

She chuckled before shrugging and answering, "To be honest, it's not all that bad. The actual shelving is kind of boring and tedious, but… I dunno, it's nice having someone to talk to and do it with." A pause, then she added, "Not that Damian talks all that much, but you know what I mean." Jess glanced sideways at the other teen with a smile just as Dick laughed.

"If you were any more helpless and inadequate at our tasks, you'd have more to be concerned about than my unwillingness to participate in needless chatter."

"Sometimes I can't tell if you're insulting or complimenting me when you talk like that," she responded swiftly before taking a sip of her water.

"I can assure you that was a compliment disguised as an insult," Alfred spoke up, a knowing look in his eyes.

With a smile, she answered, "That's good to know."

"What's good to know is that you can handle his attitude and when he talks like that."

"There is nothing unordinary about the way I speak," Damian countered Dick's comment, earning a crooked grin from his older brother.

He watched as Jess's gaze bounced towards his father. "Are they always like this?" she asked the older man, whose eyes, seemingly filled with fondness, landed first on Dick and then Damian.

"I've seen worse," he replied with what sounded like a joking tone, but all four men at the table knew the answer carried much more serious memories of which she didn't know.

"Do you have siblings, Miss Fairchild?"

At Alfred's question, Damian then realized the man was not as informed as he, Bruce, and Dick were, and his asking about Jess's personal life was inching towards the very territory the teen had been avoiding: discussing her past. In fact, he hadn't given it much thought, the idea that becoming friends with the girl meant acting like someone who knew little about her. Surely this was something even Bruce and Dick had both considered upon discovering Damian had taken this initiative, but this time, the teen hadn't _quite_ thought all of this through when making the split decision... which was undoubtedly very uncharacteristic of Damian to do.

"I'm an only child," Jess was saying as the gears spun and worked quickly in his head, preparing to take control of the situation before it took an undesirable turn.

Because, sometimes, Damian wasn't one to sit back and let circumstances worsen, not if he could help it, regardless of who or what caused it.

"Do you live here with your family?"

No one reacted abnormally to Damian's question, but the teen took notice of the subtleties—a flickering glance from Dick, a reach for water by Bruce. Even Alfred had turned his gaze down towards his plate, possibly having sensed the change in atmosphere. Beside Damian, Jess was shifting in her seat and tucking her hair behind her ear, both motions a display of uneasiness he'd seen coming.

Though it wasn't his intention to make her uncomfortable let alone bring up what was clearly a painful past, he'd found it necessary to cut in and ask the question that he knew Alfred would have. _Better me than him._

"Actually, no. My parents died in a car crash a few years ago, so I'm here by myself."

The tone of her voice was even, carefully controlled, making Damian look over at her to see she was piercing a few of the remaining green beans in her bowl with her fork but not bringing them up to her mouth.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bruce then spoke up after an awkward, silent moment of clinking china at the table.

"It's okay," she replied quietly, the ghost of a half-attempted smile on her lips before taking another bite of her food.

Yet it wasn't 'okay,' was it? Even as dinner continued on, Dick jumping in to change the subject and steer it away from the sudden elephant in the room, Damian found himself questioning his decision to bring Jess here. A part of his conscience reminded him he'd reached out to her because of Dick's brotherly advice—most of the time, the man turned out to be right, so it was far from unusual for Damian to consider it—but before the night was even over, the young hero was already doubting the concept, the possibility of making friends with someone whose past was so closely tied to his own life.

The self-doubt was all too familiar, a feeling he'd been carrying for too long, but that also meant he'd grown used to it. After years of practice, it was as simple as flipping a switch in the same manner he did between Damian Wayne and Robin.

While they drove across the city again less than an hour later, Jess having explained that she was meeting a friend at the bookstore that was a few blocks from the shelter facility (another lie to be expected, Damian figured), the car was filled with silence until she spoke up.

"Thanks for inviting me. It was… really nice." Her tone was thoughtful as she glanced over at him.

"You're welcome," Damian said, feeling her gaze but not taking his eyes off the dark road. Impulsively, he found himself adding, "I'm sorry for asking about your family."

"Don't be. You're not the first one… and besides, you didn't know. People usually don't."

_Except I did. I do know._

The car rolled to a stop on the street, yellow light from the lampposts spilling across Gotham's sidewalks. The small bookstore beside them had its drapes partially closed, figures moving within, and Damian vaguely wondered if her friend Misty really was in there. Jess unbuckled her seatbelt and met his eyes, offering a smile that matched the softness in her hazel irises.

"Thanks for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow?"

He gave her a curt nod, prompting her to exit the car and shut it, then tossing him a wave before heading for the bookstore's doors.

* * *

"_My parents died in a car crash a few years ago…"_

Though days had passed since Damian had so kindly invited her to his own house—_mansion_—for dinner, her own words had echoed in the back of her mind too many times since. When was the last time she'd ever spoken that painful truth aloud? It must have been at least months… maybe even a year. Beth, Jax, and the others in the gang had never prodded her about her past or asked much about herself, saying it didn't matter and it was up to her to share pieces of her life with them.

And despite how she'd foolishly come to "trust" them, she never did reveal the harsh reality about her parents.

Beyond that, no one had really cared to ask about Jess's family unless it was some random stranger on the street or a police officer playing the "Where are your parents?" card.

As much as it was appealing, the prospect of becoming better friends with Misty and Damian, it was also _terrifying_. Friendships came with getting to know one another, and there was nothing more that she wanted to hide than what her life had been the last few years let alone the fact that she was in the middle of making up for it all. She'd caught the looks on their faces at the dinner table when she mentioned her parents' deaths—even if Damian seemed to be an expert at poker faces and scowls, she knew he'd reacted to it. His unexpected apology later that night was evidence enough.

_Now imagine the reactions I'd get if I start revealing that I'm a juvenile delinquent? That I'm living in a shelter facility in the very city I committed crimes, hurt people… that I'm a_ meta-human_?_

"For someone who's at a house party, you seem to be thinking really hard about some life choices."

The cool voice cut through the bass-heavy rap song that'd been thumping in the background of Jess's thoughts, making her snap out of her own head and notice the icy, light blue eyes looking at her. The first thing she noticed was that this stranger was _towering_—he must have been at least a whole head taller than her. The next thing she took notice of was his platinum-blond locks sticking upwards in a ruffled mess atop his head, the rest of his hair a natural, dark brown underneath. _Interesting choice of hairstyle... _

Icy Eyes sported a casual t-shirt and joggers, a beer can hanging loosely from his fingers as he entered the kitchen where Jess had been, unintentionally, hanging out with the array of spirits and food across the counters, her mind wandering like it always did. His voice had startled her, but his apparent attractiveness simply aided the blood rushing to her face as she straightened up and glanced around, seeing they were alone. Misty, who'd been at her side minutes—or had it been longer?—ago was nowhere to be found, probably off mingling with the crowd of friends she'd introduced to Jess when they had arrived.

The house was fairly large and belonged to someone who had a decent amount of money; their modern home had been taken over by laughing, rambunctious teenagers, plastic cups, and explicit music. As Misty had described last week, it'd started out with a small number of people, but now that some time had passed, the traffic passing through the front door had increased, and Jess was surrounded by even more unfamiliar faces.

The stranger tossed the beer can into the trash before coming to a stop next to her at the counter, reaching for another unopened one and glancing over at her. "Unless you're thinking about what to drink," he then said with a slight smile.

Up close, his eyes were even more stunning than they'd been from across the kitchen, the light blues mixed with a hint of grey, a pretty shade that stood out against smooth, tanned skin.

Oh no. Was she staring?

Blinking, Jess swept her gaze over the variety of alcohol and soda before shaking her head and answering, "I've, um, never had alcohol before except one time my mom let me try champagne when I was ten."

_Add that to the list of Idiotic Things Jess Says._

A grin tugged the corner of his mouth at her comment. "Ever had a malt?" Icy Eyes grabbed a bottle filled with carbonated pink fluid and waved it at her with a dark brow raised. "Pretty much has the same alcohol content as a beer but in the form of carbonated soda."

Misty had said there was no pressure for Jess to consume anything she didn't want to; the 16-year-old herself didn't drink because alcohol was "fucking nasty" to her. But Jess had left that possibility open, not making any personal promises to either join in or refrain from it.

Without a word, she took the bottle from him after he opened and offered it. The chilled liquid made it down her throat easily, but she made a face at the bitter taste thinly hidden beneath the artificial, carbonated taste of strawberry.

"Kade," he then introduced himself, opening his can of beer with a pop and hiss.

"Jess."

"Mind sharing what had you thinking so hard a few moments ago?"

Hesitation had her pausing before bringing the bottle to her lips again, that acidic taste starting to become less and less bothersome. "Honestly, it's nothing I should be thinking about while I'm here," she admitted with a light laugh.

Something twinkled in his eyes, making the pit of her stomach churn. "Then I guess you've come to the right place."

The tone of his cool voice seemed to taunt her, like he was hinting at something. What did he mean by that? In the midst of all things uncertain and seemingly out of control in her life, Jess was only sure of one thing that concerned not the past nor the future but instead that very moment: she had no idea what he meant, but she wanted to find out.

* * *

**Note: **i kind of spit this chapter out without much editing or proofing, so if there are mistakes or something doesn't make sense, i'm... sorry. lol.

idk if it's the quarantine or what, but i'm coming up with so many ideas for this story—my notes literally have a timeline of what's going to happen in the next, like, at least five chapters LOL. i think i'm getting ahead of myself. it happens.

anyway, more humorous DamiJess banter coming 'cause i love writing their back-and-forth dialogue. i've always had this idea that she can keep up with his attitude just as easily as she can challenge him competitively hehe. but on the note of our new OC Kade... well. i won't say much except that he will be instrumental in THINGS to happen later down the road. like i just said, SO MANY IDEAS in my head. i'm just hoping to write it all well and coherently as we proceed, ha.

thanks as always for the reviews, faves, and follows! xx

p.s. can i just say i'm impressed that the chapters have gotten longer? whew. let's see if i can keep this up xD


	14. Complicated

"_Open your eyes and look outside_

_Find the reasons why_

_You've been rejected_

_And now you can't find what you left behind…_

_She wants to go home,_

_but nobody's home"_

_~ Avril Lavigne, "Nobody's Home"_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Complicated**

She wasn't quite sure how she'd come to be in this position.

The heavy downpour of rain had come quickly and suddenly with no warning, soaking her hair and clothes within seconds, and her already unsteady vision was now limited even more by the sheet of water coming from the night sky. Dark, blurry figures surrounded her, seeming to move sluggishly as she tried to hold on to the brick wall she'd nearly fell into, too imbalanced to take a step without feeling like the world was falling sideways.

In fact, how did she even get to this state of mind?

A living room full of teenagers. Dancing, laughing, drinking from plastic cups. One of those cups in her hand, full one moment and then empty the next. A shot glass emptied into her mouth once, twice, maybe even three times, the lingering memories of loss, betrayal and confusion taunting her in the back of her mind.

Now it was an empty street in a city she couldn't name, her vision too rocky and unfocused to let her walk straight. Not that she was really walking anyway—a wave of nausea and dizziness flooded her stomach and her mind, causing her to collapse onto the hard, wet ground. The fall barely hurt, the pain from landing harshly on her hands poking through the haziness for a brief moment but not enough to make a difference.

A snicker from an unfamiliar voice came from somewhere nearby, followed by another voice speaking, talking in words her brain couldn't register. Suddenly, something tight wrapped around her upper arm and yanked her onto her feet. Fear and alarm spiked through her body as she was spun around, and she desperately tried to make sense of the hazy, muddy grin just inches from her face, partially concealed by a baseball cap. Before she could even attempt to open her mouth and scream, shout, _something_, the figure that'd been gripping her was gone in an instant, a shadow having swept in from somewhere up in the air. The motion made her stomach lurch and the absence of the unknown person's hold rendered her unsteady and helpless again as her shoulder hit the wall for support.

Movement and shouts were everywhere, too quick for her to understand what was happening. Her vision was fading into a black abyss as was her consciousness, slipping in and out just enough to still hear the scene. There were sounds of impact, a few cracks, and even a plead of mercy that was instantly cut off by another shout of pain and then silence.

Silence except for the pattering of rain that practically assaulted her skin and her face as she blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the lone, dark outline standing above a body on the ground. The panic that'd been simmering underneath her inebriated state was still there as the shadow—splitting into two, three, then merging back into one thanks to her distorted vision—approached her.

The mask that grew nearer wasn't the one she'd expected… the one she'd hoped for. It should have frightened her, but the confusion was quickly replaced by a swift onslaught of emotions she had been trying to drink away after what had just occurred a minute ago. They overwhelmed her, tightening her throat before she could even attempt to cry or speak. She was barely aware of him saying something just as what little strength had managed to keep her standing disappeared. The moment her knees buckled and she fell forward towards him, a pair of arms caught her just in time and then lowered her to the ground. A voice was calling to her while something patted her cheek, but all senses and any chance of her answering were nothing at that point, consciousness dimming until her head fell back and eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

**Two days earlier**

"Tutoring?"

Jess had to work to make sure there was no look of surprise and anxiety on her face as she stared at Erin, who'd just suggested she consider "catching up" on the typical things teens her age did. Leave it to her probation officer to remind her that she'd missed out on quite a few things while away from home and off breaking the law with wanted criminals.

They were at the same diner they'd been meeting at since her arrival in Gotham, chatting over coffee about what the teen had been up to and discussing her progress. The woman had asked if she'd done anything of interest lately, and Jess had immediately cast her mind back to the party she'd attended earlier in the week (she was considering going to another one with Misty sometime soon)—of course, that was the only thing she didn't mention to Erin... especially since that was the first time she'd ever actually experienced what it was like to be under the influence of alcohol. She hadn't gotten _drunk_, no, but the strange buzz that'd stripped away the top layer of her guarded walls had certainly been there, letting her laugh a little more with Misty and her other newfound friend, Kade.

Kade. The handsome, icy-eyed young man who Jess had suddenly gravitated towards for some unnameable reason she didn't think too much about. Apparently, he'd gone to school with Misty and they were casual friends, so the other girl had been enthusiastic to see Jess had already met him. The three of them had continued to hit it off at the party, the two Gothamites sharing entertaining stories with her about their adventures at the academy and in the city in general. For the first time in a while, even counting the day at the arcade, she'd felt like she could actually live in the moment, _in the present_, and have a good time without thoughts of her past or pressing future invading her mind. It was practically a miracle.

But it was also just another reminder that she'd definitely missed out on over a whole year of her adolescence, lost to an inescapable world of grief that turned into poor choices and consequences. She'd nearly forgotten what it was like to have friends.

Talk about feeling like being on the outside looking in.

"I think it'd be good for you to be tutored while you're here, finishing up your hours and maintaining good behavior," Erin was saying, giving her a smile. "School is coming up, and you'd be behind an academic year."

"What do you think?" she continued. "That way you can start your senior year instead of as a junior?"

Truthfully? She'd never considered it at all, which was probably because she hadn't wanted to. Her steady routine here in Gotham had been established in the last few weeks, and while it was nothing particularly interesting or groundbreaking, the teen had come to terms with reminding herself it was for her own good.

So… maybe doing this could also be a good thing, too, right?

"Look..." Erin was regarding her with a kind gaze. "I can tell you seem a little hesitant about it. It's not required of you since this is not part of the judge's order, so it's really just a suggestion. But, as I said, I do think it's important you start looking into all these essential parts of your life that have been... delayed."

Taking a deep breath and training her eyes on the half-empty mug before her, Jess answered, "I would be... open to that. I think I just need some time to consider it."

_Even though my first answer is no._

She nodded, understanding softening her features. "I totally get that, Jess. But just remember that you've got less than two months left, so... how about you give me a definite answer within the next few days? If you decide to go through with it, I can get things set up for you."

"Sounds good to me."

And a little frightening. That, too.

Now she had to consider this on top of the fact that she was still searching around for job opportunities (albeit not very hard, again because of her reluctance to start doing normal, teenage responsibilities.) _Maybe Damian has a suggestion_.

But wait... had he ever had a job before?

The question almost distracted her from the next thing Erin was saying, something about checking in with Lora and notifying her of her progress. Jess paid only partial attention, possessing little to no desire to hear about her aunt—her brain was too occupied, making mental notes to Google if it was weird to start school a year younger than your peers.

A few hours later, the questions were still on her mind as she tossed the frisbee in the too-large backyard of Wayne Manor, watching Titus take off across the perfectly-green grass after it. When she wasn't at the library, hanging with Misty, or at the facility, she was hanging out with Damian at his home, the two of them spending more time together after the night he'd invited her over. It was nice for a variety of reasons, including being able to play with Titus, lounging around the manor's countless rooms and corners (and the super cool home theatre), Alfred's great cooking (besides Damian's) and random offers for snacks. Jess and Damian never really hung out elsewhere unless it was some restaurant or coffee shop to grab food, but she'd never felt the need to complain—the manor had grown to be a welcoming change of scenery, almost a go-to place when she was tired of the facility's walls or bookshelves.

She'd also come to appreciate the family's library, understanding why her new friend preferred it to the city's—and the fact that she had some bitter memories about the latter probably contributed to that, too.

Damian didn't seem to mind their hanging out either, never having once griped about her company. Sometimes, she'd wondered if he was simply not saying anything because he didn't want to hurt her feelings, but then Jess had to remind herself that he was _Damian_ and she would definitely know if something or someone was bothering him. Still, there was a part of her that felt bad that she had almost suddenly started coming around his private home, that he was always driving her around… which reminded her that she also didn't have her license, only the permit she'd gotten a few years ago in Central City.

But she could only assume she knew how he felt about it, right?

_I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask_, Jess mused as she watched the black-haired teen return with the two bottles of water he'd gone to retrieve.

Though it was partially overcast with hints of sunlight falling through, the summer air was warm, and the two of them had been getting in a short workout with Titus on the grass for a little bit. He hadn't been able to keep up with tug-of-war or fetch for very long, unfortunately, so Jess wasn't hurling the frisbee disc too far. (Somehow, she'd still managed to get grass stains on her jeans and cropped t-shirt while Damian's own clothes remained clean.)

Catching the cold bottle he tossed at her, Jess strode over to the garden bench nearby and sat down. "I've got a question for you."

He said nothing, hand outstretched for Titus, who was prancing towards him with the bright yellow frisbee in his mouth.

"You'd tell me if I was... invading your space, right?" The words tumbled out with uncertainty, making him raise a questioning brow at her.

"I would. Are you worried that you are?" Damian inquired as he threw the frisbee, gaze following the dog back across the lawn.

Hands still wrapped around the soothingly chilled bottle of water, she considered her next words carefully. "Maybe... I'm not sure." The look he gave her from where he stood a few feet away prompted her to go on. "I mean, you always let me come over, and you're always nice enough to give me rides. Figured you'd be sick of me by now."

Speculative, green eyes took in the joking grin she tossed him. "I wouldn't hesitate to tell you if either of those was a problem. Might I remind you that _I_ also ask you if you'd like to come over and offer you transportation?"

Well, she couldn't disagree with that. Despite her doubts, it wasn't like Damian hadn't been the one to suggest they hang out here at the manor a few times, and it was an informal agreement that he would pick her up and drop her off unless she took the public bus. Even Bruce had told her himself that she was welcome anytime, and Dick seemed to enjoy having her around (he'd actually been kind enough one day to get her from the library when Damian had been occupied).

And speaking of the older brother...

"And Dick's visiting," Jess added. "Am I really not intruding family time?"

Damian rolled his eyes before moving to join her on the bench. "He has no problem with you being around, Jessica. If anything, he prefers it to me _not_ having anyone over at all. My father and Alfred feel the same way."

His explanation made her feel a little better, but there was still that nagging feeling, that _voice_ in the back of her head reminding her that if she really wanted a way to stop worrying about being a potential burden on her friend, she had the means to do it.

"What's on your mind?"

He was watching her, examining her face. She must've made some kind of surprised facial expression because he was then adding, "You're quite an open book sometimes. Something is bothering you."

And here Jess had thought she'd gained a knack for lying and deception after all the time she'd spent as a runaway.

What would be the best way to explain her feelings without digging up and exposing her secrets?

"You know how I told you I'm here in Gotham by myself?"

Damian nodded his acknowledgment, and Jess went on, her voice quiet as she averted her gaze. "I'm only here for the summer... to take care of some personal things." _That sounded truthful enough, didn't it?_ "I'm going back home by the end of August, and someone told me I should try and catch up on the stuff other teens my age do before I go back to school."

"Such as obtaining your driver's license."

"Well, yeah, that's one of them. I have my permit, but I really haven't been behind a wheel in a long time even though I should probably try and take the test when I return to Central City. And I'm also considering a tutor since I'm going to start as a junior this year instead of a senior... I, um, missed some school after my parents died." Jess chewed on the inside of her cheek before looking up to meet his eyes. "Guess you could say I've kind of fallen behind in those things."

Titus had returned, dropping the frisbee at their feet and panting heavily. Damian didn't answer for a moment as he reached out and scratched behind the dog's ears, causing him to take up rest on the ground.

"May I ask you a blunt question?"

"Impressive of you to ask for permission."

"Are you going to make me regret doing so?"

A crooked smile crossed Jess's face before she shook her head. "Go on."

Her friend turned to her and, with a hard look, asked, "Does it really matter so much to you that you 'catch up' in trivial things like earning some shiny, plastic card or being in the same grade as your peers in high school?"

It shouldn't have hit her square in the chest... but it did. Maybe he wasn't being intentionally crude about it, but somehow his words dug under her skin and made her feel like he was patronizing her about these things, like she was just some selfish teenager who wanted to be in the same realm as everyone else around her.

And she did.

But Damian wasn't. He _wasn't_ in the same world that she was in—hell, he was barely in the same reality or tax bracket as anyone around their age. The guy had more money than anyone she'd ever known, including her aunt, had his license and was graduated already, didn't need a job to finance his living... On top of all that, he had no idea what she'd been through and what was driving her to care about this stuff. So how could she blame him for not seeing this the same way she did?

"It does," Jess finally answered, keeping her gaze on Titus since she didn't want to look at the other teen. "It's… complicated. I don't expect you to understand why."

_And you shouldn't expect me to explain._

He must have sensed the abrupt tightness in her voice because he was then offering—no, more like announcing, "I will teach you how to drive."

"... Really?"

"Don't sound so skeptical," Damian scoffed. "I'm confident I'd be a far better teacher than those twits they call 'driving instructors' whose lessons you would pay an absurd amount of money for."

His comment had Jess suppressing a smile as she contemplated the idea of him teaching her the ways of the roads. She'd probably forgotten everything she had learned, considering it'd been a while… Being taught by Damian seemed like a frightening time as much as it did a fun one—seriously, just imagining him barking instructions at her was scary enough—and she knew right away that she'd rather bicker with him over nonsense than be taught by some stranger.

"That's a tempting proposal," Jess thought aloud, pretending to eye him warily. "But before I agree, what's your rate?"

"There's no need for you to compensate me," Damian answered dismissively, returning her gaze with glittering, green eyes that challenged her.

"Well, I have to do _something_ to repay you. In fact, I still haven't gotten you back for that first time we had lunch!"

"You'll never let it go, will you?"

"Nope," she responded confidently and with a quick shake of her head. "I will bug you about it until you come up with something."

Damian wasn't _quite_ smiling as he gazed at her, but the corner of his mouth was lifted ever so slightly in something that was close to a smirk. "Fine. When I need something, I'll be sure to let you know."

"You'd better."

The two of them held each other's stares for a long moment, almost as if they were daring the other to look away, and Jess, with a sudden burst of courage, said, "Remember when you caught me looking at you, and you asked if it was because you had something on your face?"

"Your attempt to lie at the time was pitiful."

"Well, what if this time I'm not lying?"

Suspicion creased his brows as he considered her words. "You're saying I have something on my—"

Suddenly, cold water splashed across his face, making him close his eyes for a brief second before opening them, emerald greens blazing as a snort escaped from Jess, who was trying—and failing—to get a grip on herself.

"You've got a little, uh, something..."

Her laughter finally escaped as she bolted from the bench and across the expansive lawn, water splashing from the open bottle in her hand. Damian was already on her tail, Titus trotting closely behind and eager to participate in whatever nonsense the two humans were doing.

* * *

From one of the first-floor windows looking out into the backyard, Dick watched the two teens and the dog run back and forth on the grass, the blue-haired girl waving her water bottle towards Damian, messily emptying its contents onto his chest and shirt. In response, he extended his arm and dumped his own bottle right on her head, the cold water making her yelp and back away, tripping over her own feet and falling backwards onto the ground in a fit of laughter.

Very few people would have gotten away with doing such a thing to Damian, and Dick would have been lying if he wasn't (pleasantly) surprised to discover Jess seemed to have made that list. Did this prove what he'd tried telling his younger brother all along about her? About what he'd said for years about letting someone in? That sometimes, there were people who just managed to make it past your walls no matter how high you built them and when you least expected it?

He was certain enough that it did.

Dick could count on one hand the number of family, friends, and lovers who'd been able to make Damian act the way he was at that moment in the manor backyard, which was _freely_, openly... On the other hand, he couldn't say he knew much more about their new friendship, not when it came to other, more complicated details, like the fact that Jess still didn't know about Damian's other life or that, in contrast, _he_ knew everything about _her_. The kid hadn't said anything regarding those things, things that he had probably already given some thought.

But this was Damian's life, Damian's friendship, Damian's choices. It'd been _his_ choice to ask about her family at that dinner. And it would be his choice to let her in should he want to, to tell her lies or truths, or decide he was no longer interested in pursuing any kind of bond with someone outside his family.

To Dick, it looked like the young man had already at least unlocked the door.

"Am I just seeing things or are you thinking the same as me?"

He and Bruce were standing at the entrance to the backyard, both men watching the teenagers as Jess lay back on the grass and Damian sat cross-legged, Titus next to them. She was gesturing with her hands, pointing to the sky, and Dick could tell by Damian's body language that he wasn't having whatever she was saying. He imagined that she was trying to get him to spot shapes in the clouds, and the former assassin was questioning how old she was.

"I see it," Bruce answered, eyes flickering from the two to Dick. They were filled with something he couldn't immediately read, a mixture of affection and... bleakness? "But I'm worried, Dick."

Bruce Wayne had to be in a special kind of position to say something like that.

"Is it because of what's going on between you two? Or...?" Dick glanced over at Jess and Damian, letting his eyes finish his sentence.

"I was already concerned for him when he started acting out, but for different reasons that you know." He paused, crossing his arms. "You've always been good to him, Dick. I'm glad you pushed him to find a friend and... that he's opened up to someone."

Dick waited patiently, hoping his old man would get to the point. He'd always had this unintentional tendency to beat around the bush, especially when there were feelings—_his_ feelings—involved.

"Do you think he knows we're standing here?" Bruce suddenly asked.

His eldest son tilted his head, still watching the teens on the grass. "I wouldn't put it past him. But then again, she managed to get him in the face with that first soak, so he's probably not all that attentive and watchful like he usually is."

Speaking the words aloud seemed to trigger a lightbulb in Dick, making him realize what Bruce had been trying to say. The former Robin turned to him and saw that the man was looking at him now, having expected that he'd finally understand.

"You're really thinking that deeply into this and that far ahead?" Dick then asked before shaking his head and holding up a hand. "Never mind, don't answer that. I forgot who I was talking to."

Leaning against the doorframe of the open doorway, he added, "I don't know, Bruce. It's probably way too early to see where this will go. And I thought you had a good feeling about her."

"I have a good feeling about her as a person. I don't know how I feel about her being Damian's friend... especially because she is who she is."

Silence fell between them, interrupted by Damian's calls for Titus in the background and another burst of laughter from Jess. Dick turned Bruce's words over in his head, now knowing why the older man was as concerned as he was about the younger Wayne's newfound friendship. Damian had never had the easiest time maintaining relationships outside of his family, and the fact that Jess was… well, _Jess_, certainly made things more complicated. Much more complicated. So Bruce's reasoning wasn't flawed and Dick couldn't blame him for it, but there was hope, wasn't there? Things could be different this time around.

Maybe Jess wouldn't hurt Damian the way he'd been before, and maybe he wouldn't push her away like he had others.

"I say we see how it goes, B," Dick sighed, pushing himself off the doorframe, eyes darting between the scene and his father. "We'll be here for him regardless of how things pan out."

"From the sidelines." Pale blue eyes landed on him, speaking more than words… and seeming to add a heavier meaning to what he'd just said.

Dick understood exactly what he'd implied. "From the sidelines," he agreed with a nod, pausing momentarily before heading back into the manor and leaving Bruce where he stood, still watching his son and his friend on the lawn.

* * *

_The small room, lit by a single, dim lamp hanging from the short ceiling, was both familiar and foreign at the same time. She sat at the metal table, alone, a foreboding feeling rising in her. Had she been here before?_

"_Why?"_

_Beth Eastman was suddenly across from her, blue eyes rimmed with red—she looked exactly the same as she did last time they'd crossed paths._

_When the woman had betrayed her. _

"_Why what?" Jess asked as her heart clenched with alarm in her chest._

_Beth was gone and replaced by recognizable dark red and green._

"_Why'd you do it?" Robin chimed in with a calm though judgmental glare behind his mask._

_Batman._

"_Why, Jessica?"_

"_Why_ what? _What did I do?" The anxiety and panic tightened her throat, making her words strained, barely audible._

_Hazel-colored eyes that were almost a replica of her own, but with more flecks of warm brown, appeared, making her heart jump straight into her throat. She wouldn't have been able to utter a word if she'd tried._

"_Why didn't you save us, Jessie?" _

With a sound that was a mix between a sob and gasp for air, Jess's eyes snapped open to darkness, her body overwhelmed with heat. Her heart galloped wildly, the only thing she could hear besides her own anxious breathing. Disoriented, she lay there, wherever she was—it took a moment to recognize her own bed—and blinked away the lingering flashes of their faces.

Her phone read 1:40 a.m., and the twisted feeling in her gut was barely subsiding. Throwing off her covers, Jess hurriedly made her way to the bathroom across the hall, knowing Misty would barely flinch in her sleep, and bent over the toilet, hurling up all the dread and misery the nightmare had left with her.

She'd never reacted like this, felt so _sick_, all the other times that this nightmare had haunted her, even though it'd been different every time. Different faces from her recent past, in seemingly random orders, taking turns asking the same question of "Why?" over and over again. The dream had occurred often in the weeks following the library incident, then dropped off while she settled in Gotham; she'd almost grown used to it. Sometimes it'd been the gang, sometimes it was just Robin. One time, it'd been her aunt.

Tonight, it was her mother.

After spitting a few times into the sink and rinsing her mouth, she braced the edge of the cold counter, leaning forward and shutting her eyes, willing the images of Portia Fairchild to go away. Her shoulders rose and fell with controlled pants as she tried to breathe through the constricting of her chest.

Jess knew why it was so hard to fight it though, why she could feel every ounce of her composure slipping—it'd been so long since she had let herself _feel._ Even after being betrayed, after she'd turned herself in, she'd refused to dwell on those things and all the mistakes she'd made in the past. Her body and mind wanted so badly to just pause and let everything go, all of her self-control, her inhibition, her need to be strong.

But she couldn't.

Hastily wiping away the lone tear that had managed to escape, she looked down and realized she'd been gripping the edge of the counter. Her white knuckles stood out against the ghostly aura of her power she didn't know had emerged, making her suck in a breath and step backwards, holding up her hands and forcing it to retreat.

Another uncontrollable sob rising in her chest, hands trembling, Jess sank to the bathroom floor, asking herself the same question repeatedly until the single word no longer held meaning.

_Why?_

* * *

**Present day**

He'd always sort of wondered if it would get old, hopping across rooftops, beating up thugs—or simply putting a bullet or two in them, depending on how he felt in the moment—spilling a little blood here and there despite who complained. At one long, painful, blurry, shitty point in his life, it had been all he could do to deal with said pain, taking it out on Gotham's worst, one punch or bullet at a time. Sure, now he was older, maybe a little wiser (the thought made him laugh), and things weren't quite as terrible as they'd been when he was out in the streets "coping," but a small part of him had always known it wouldn't really get so old that he'd up and quit for good.

Nah, it was too... _cathartic._ That'd be a word ol' Dick would use, huh?

Even now, as he perched on the edge of a rooftop for what was probably the millionth time in the beloved, eastern part of Gotham, that familiar rush of exhilaration was rushing through his veins, fueled by the satisfying apprehensions of unsuspecting thugs and conniving masks in the streets below. Just minutes ago, rain had begun to pour, drenching his clothing, his mask the only thing protecting his hair and face from its cold, wet assault. His hands reached up for it, about to remove it to suck in a breath of fresh air, when he heard the harsh laughter of men he could immediately tell were up to no good. Without hesitation, he stood up and crossed the rooftop, peering over the edge to find the source of the noise.

Despite the darkness and heavy rain, the bluish, silvery hair had been distinctive on the teenage girl who was strangely slumped against the wall of a building across the street, seemingly unable to stay on two feet. Three men had stalked towards her, one of them making a joke about her debilitated state, and another had ordered him to grab her quickly.

_I don't think so, buddy._

So he hadn't wasted another second, soaring off the roof and connecting one outstretched foot to the back of the man who'd wrapped his grimy fingers around her arm. The brawl between him and the three of them had lasted less than twenty seconds, the longest interruption of a crime he'd experienced tonight. That didn't matter though, not when she was obviously incapacitated for some reason and had been slipping against the wall towards the ground. He'd caught her before she did, grunting a little at the sudden weight he was handling in his arms.

"Hey," he tried, patting her cheek and watching her eyes flutter, whether due to the rain or her inebriated position, he had no idea. "Hey, can you hear me? Don't do that, stay with me."

He attempted to shake her a little because, well, this would be very, very bad if she didn't wake up. The girl looked young, probably no more than eighteen, though a lot of teens these days didn't look their age, so what did he know?

Her eyes finally shut, all signs of consciousness leaving her limp figure. A gloved hand found and retrieved her wallet, rain splattering onto the identification card of the teenage girl as he squinted at her printed name. The smartphone in her pocket was dead.

Yeah. This was _not_ good.

One knee on the ground for balance as he held her in his arms, Red Hood heaved a sigh, looking down at the strangely peaceful though now passed-out face of Jessica Fairchild. Two words left his mouth then, consumed by the sound of heavy rainfall and heard by no one but him.

"Well, fuck."

* * *

**Note: **and there we have it, the first-time appearance of our favorite, foul-mouthed, reckless, leather-jacket-wearing, indubitably-good-looking former Robin aka Red Hood aka Jason freaking Todd!... as well as some more poor decision-making by Jess (smh) although she's obviously going through it :(

honestly, i was thinking about sitting on this chapter for a few more days but i was just like "F it, I'm gonna post it anyway" and so here we are because i'm just too excited for what i have planned with him (along with everything else i've come up with concerning DamiJess and Kade and all of that good stuff).

tysm for the love, the reviews, the reads, all of it! xx


	15. Leaps of Faith

"_It only takes one idea, one second in time, one friend, one dream, one leap of faith, to change everything forever."_

_~ Mike Dooley_

* * *

**Chapter 15: Leaps of Faith**

Jason Todd brought a lot of girls back home to his apartment.

Well, more specifically, they were _women_, beautiful women he usually met in bars who laughed at his crappy jokes—though some were bold enough to tell him upfront, which was hot, too—and ten out of ten times, they were there for one thing and left the next morning. Few of them ever got to lay in his bed a couple times but never more than that, and neither did they become anything more than a distraction to him.

Because things like "commitment" and "relationships" didn't exist under his roof as of late, and not even "friends with benefits" could get him to approach those territories.

He didn't need to watch a rom-com to know even _that_ stuff was dangerous, no matter whether there were strings attached.

However, any plans of finding someone to keep him company had gone out the window the moment he'd realized this random girl he saved wasn't going to wake anytime soon. As he carried her in his arms, walking in the pouring rain under Gotham's dim streetlights, he wondered how the hell he'd managed to get himself into this one. It wasn't like it was unusual for teenagers and young adults to get into some questionable situations around here, but it definitely wasn't often that he ended up having to… figure out a way to keep them safe while they slept off their heavy hangover.

She was just a kid. She was _seventeen,_ just shy of legal adulthood... yet her incapacitated state had reeked, literally, of too much alcohol, leaving him no choice but to bring her back to his own place. That made her the only actual _girl_ he'd taken there, a first in many ways and for many reasons. Who would've thought?

Definitely not him.

Though he'd figured there was no way she'd wake before him, Jason had laid her across his worn couch and draped a random blanket over her before changing into dry clothes and dropping into the recliner nearby. Instead of sleeping in his own bed, he'd be right next to her when she awoke for obvious reasons. One of his trusty handguns had sat on the table next to him, ready for anything sudden should someone try to kill him while he slept—the girl would probably freak out once she woke up, plus, he'd been targeted in his sleep before anyway.

And he always slept with one eye open.

Despite the unexpected presence of this Jessica girl in this small place he called home, with its minimal and mismatched furniture, Jason had quickly knocked out, sleeping a dreamless sleep but not one that was peaceful. He rarely slept peacefully; living a life like his, and after so many years of it, kind of did that to you. Maybe a few hours passed or more, but some time later, he was woken up by the sound of a pained sigh, one that jolted him from his slumber and made him wrench his eyes open.

From his slumped position in the recliner, he could see the girl was still laying back on the couch, her hands to her head like she was trying to keep it from exploding. _I know how that feels all too well_, Jason thought to himself, watching as she opened her eyes. Confusion and alarm took over her features, and she bolted upright (bad idea). He could almost feel the nausea and intense headache she was probably experiencing as she wobbled a little in her seated position, palms pressed to her eyes.

Straightening himself up and stretching briefly to relieve the kink in his neck, Jason drawled, "Feel like shit, don't you?"

Her head snapped towards him as she dropped her hands, eyes half-successfully focusing on him. Though they were bloodshot and accompanied by dark circles and smudged makeup, he could see they were big and doll-like, trying to make sense of her surroundings and him. Her realization seemed to pierce through her hangover, her eyes then widening as she looked down at herself and threw off the blanket.

"I'd stop moving so suddenly if I were—"

As soon as she'd stood (probably to try and bolt), her figure wavered with unbalance, making her collapse back onto the couch. "Who are you? Where am I?" she demanded, voice thick with sleep and her hangover.

Jason remained still in the recliner, appraising her with an amused stare, then shrugged. "I'm the guy that saved you from those pervs last night," he answered matter-of-factly.

"What?" The confusion was clear as day on her face; he could tell she was trying to recall memories of the previous night and knew there'd be little for her to remember, based on how debilitated she'd been.

"You probably don't remember 'cause you had way too much to drink," he went on, "but I came across you in Burnley, absolutely shit-faced, and a couple of creepy guys were about to do who-knows-what to you. So I stopped them."

The look of disbelief she adopted didn't surprise him, and he watched again as she attempted to stand and take a few steps back, her heel knocking into the corner of the couch. She practically fell back onto the arm, obviously way too dizzy to function.

"Tell me... why I should believe you," she tried to threaten, raising a hand towards him.

Jason saw that she was eyeing the handgun beside him, and he knew it didn't make the situation much better. Shit, the fact that she was in some stranger's apartment was enough reason for her to panic the way she was.

"Well, I really don't have any proof lying around, and you obviously don't remember a thing, so I don't know what to tell you, doll."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, sorry," he said with an apologetic raise of both hands. "What do I call you then?"

"You seriously think I'm going to give you my name?" Her eyes seemed to burn holes in him despite her state.

"I mean, I already looked at your ID, but I was just asking out of respect in case you—alright, what's with you holding up your hand like that towards me? Are you telling me to stay away? Because I am, I swear I'm not trying—"

The oxygen was suddenly leaving his lungs.

Even as he continued to breathe, Jason could feel his chest tightening in an unusual, almost painful manner. It was also at that moment that he realized her raised hand looked like it was... smoking? There was some kind of dark shadow or mist coming from it—it had to be the source of why he suddenly felt like he'd been smoking cigarettes for his entire life. _What in the hell…?_

"You have no proof to show me, so give me a reason not to make you pass out."

Thinking quickly, his eyes darted around the small living room until they landed on his red helmet that was sitting on the upright table against the wall behind her.

"That mask behind you," he tried his best to speak, sounding slightly hoarse. "Do you recognize it?"

"I'm not looking away—"

"You want proof? Fucking look... behind you."

She hesitated for a brief moment, eyes still trained on him. But then she turned her head slowly, keeping her hand raised (and the oxygen from returning to his lungs), until her gaze fell on the dark red helmet in question that sat on a pile of unopened mail. Jason hoped, _prayed_, it would trigger something in her because he really didn't want to have to engage in some fight with this girl who was clearly super-powered in some way.

Of fucking course. It was just his luck that the random teenager he saved happened to be a meta-human or something. Maybe that was the universe or the powers that be telling him to stick to beating up dumb thugs and intervening in drug trades, not taking chances on lost teenagers.

_Duly noted._

Seconds passed... and then she released her hold on him, dropping her hand. He felt the tightness disappear from his chest, replaced by a dull pain as he breathed normally again. Reaching up to touch the base of his throat, Jason coughed and then told her, "Well, that was a neat trick… but I get it, alright? I know it looks bad, me bringing you here and you waking up like this."

"Tell me what happened," she demanded, staring intently at him. He almost couldn't tell that she was hungover, but the shifting of her weight from one foot to the other and the weakness in her voice gave it away.

_She's gutsy. I'll give her that._

Sighing, Jason recapped last night's adventure, explaining how he'd seen her and the three men, how he'd taken them out and realized she was too drunk and inebriated to even stay awake. Her phone had been dead, and he wasn't going to bring her to GCPD—"To save _your_ underage ass," he added—so he figured he would just let her sleep off her wild night at his apartment.

"It wasn't ideal, I know," he concluded as he threw his hands up. "But there's nothing keeping you from literally just walking out the door. You're free to leave."

Her slightly puffy eyes regarded him carefully. "You're either a really good liar, or you're telling the truth."

"Gee. How can you tell? Must be that cool power of yours. I bet you can feel my heartbeat or something."

"I can," she answered bluntly. "And I can make it stop if you try anything."

A snort escaped from Jason's nose—he couldn't decide whether her aggressive behavior was admirable or not to be taken seriously, but to be fair, he knew better than to underestimate a kid with powers. If anything, it was kind of endearing seeing a 17-year-old girl stand her ground against a stranger.

It was just too bad she couldn't do that last night.

She glanced over at the helmet. "Looks like you're not good at secrets either, especially the whole 'secret identity' thing. You're really not worried about me calling the cops on you?"

'_Worried'? Ha._

"What're you gonna do? Walk in to GCPD and tell them a random guy saved you from a bunch of goons 'cause you were too wasted to function?"

Her brows furrowed as she squinted at him from the couch. "You're showing me your real face right now."

"Doll, half of Gotham's criminal underworld and its fancy-pants heroes know who I am under the Red Hood."

"It's Jess."

Jason shook his head as he popped the foot of the recliner out and laid back. "Too late for that. Once I've decided on a name, that's it for you."

Jess didn't answer him, instead patting the pockets of her denim jacket, probably checking to make sure she had her phone and wallet. As she sifted through the wallet, he stood up and tucked the handgun in the waistband of his sweats, making her pause and glance up at him warily.

"Didn't take anything, but keep checking to make sure I'm right." What would a 17-year-old girl have that he'd need so badly?

Her eyes ran him up and down as he made his way to the kitchen at the other end of the living room; she was turning her body to keep her gaze on him like he was going to do something unexpected.

"What time is it?"

Glancing at the digital numbers on the microwave, Jason told her, "Five minutes to eleven." Sheesh, that was a little earlier than he usually woke up.

"_Shit,_" she hissed, moving a few feet (slowly and all wobbly) towards his front door. "How far is Daisy's Diner from here?"

"Daisy's? That's about a thirty-minute walk from here, ten if you're mobile." Taking in her flustered state, he raised a brow and asked, "Got somewhere to be?"

"Can I use your phone to make a call?"

Well, at this point, she just clearly wanted out of his apartment. He didn't blame her.

Telling her to give him a second, Jason slipped into his bedroom and, from the safe box he kept at the back of his closet, snatched one of many burner phones he kept. When he returned and tossed it towards her, she squinted down at the old school cell phone and gave him a questioning look.

"It's a burner. You don't trust me, I don't trust you either."

She seemed to nod her head in understanding before making her way to one of the windows, pushing aside the blinds to glance outside. Jason figured she was trying to determine where they were before making her call. _Or_ she was going to pull a fast one and escape—though there was nothing to escape from since he wasn't keeping her captive or anything—but if she could manage the five-story distance from the window to the ground, he'd be pretty impressed.

"What's nearby?"

"Robinson Park is less than ten minutes away west on foot," he offered as he poured himself a glass of water, watching her dial away and bring the phone up to her ear, turning her back towards him.

"Hey. It's Jess," he heard her speak in a low voice. "My phone died, so someone lent me this one… I just am, okay? Look, I kind of had something come up and I'm not going to make it there. Can you get me from Robinson Park instead?… _Yes_." Her shoulders lifted and fell as she sighed. "Are you going to come get me or not?… Okay. Thank you. I'll see you soon."

So she was asking someone to fetch her from a notable location in Gotham that wasn't too far, and he hadn't needed to suggest that to her in order to avoid raising suspicion about her whereabouts.

Huh. Not many people would have been that deliberate and careful.

Jason remained silent as she handed the phone back to him, her eyes still watching him cautiously. He made a mental note to toss it later; maybe she didn't seem like a threat right off the bat, but you could never be too careful. The fact that she had some special ability already made her a bit of a risk.

She then asked for the bathroom, and he pointed her in the right direction before rummaging around in his fridge some more. _What happened to the leftovers—oh, that's right. Already had them._ A few minutes later, she returned, looking just a tad bit more presentable than she had before; the smudged makeup wasn't as obvious around her eyes and her blue hair was pulled back into a bun.

"Thanks for…"

Saving her? Taking her somewhere decently safe?

"Not taking you to some abandoned warehouse and killing you?"

He'd thought it might make her laugh a little, but the hardened look in her eyes said otherwise. Oops.

Gesturing towards her, Jason nonchalantly responded, "Do yourself a favor and have a buddy with you next time you decide to go past your limit. Won't always have someone like me around to save the day."

Something flashed in her eyes, but she simply pressed her lips into a thin line and started for the front door. It wasn't until she was reaching for the handle that Jess half-turned towards him with her brows raised in curiosity. "So do I get to know your name, too?"

The corner of his mouth quirked. "Jason."

The expectant look on her face didn't go away. "Jason…?"

"Todd. Jason Todd."

* * *

"You look awful."

"Thanks," Jess mumbled as she buckled her seatbelt then shifted around, seemingly uncomfortable with… something.

Narrowed, green eyes appraised her quickly, taking in her wrinkled denim jacket and black jeans. Her hair was haphazardly pulled back as if she hadn't bothered combing or washing it. Despite the usual scent of wood and amber that always hung in the car, a mix of car freshener and his cologne, Damian was picking up another odor, one that was slightly bitter and sickly sweet.

She was turned away from him, her gaze outside the window. He'd already noticed something was off with her when he watched her carefully cross the sidewalk to the passenger door, a peculiar tilt to her walk… as if she'd been trying not to fall over.

"Do you have a charger?" she asked, pulling her phone from her pocket.

Not having pulled out from the side street parking of Robinson Park, where she'd strangely asked him to retrieve her, Damian pointed to the middle console between them. Blue strands fell over her face as she looked down and took the cord, plugging her phone in and then sitting back against her seat, closing her eyes.

She was avoiding eye contact.

"Jessica."

"Yeah?"

"Look at me," he said flatly, training his gaze on her face.

He'd expected her to protest or put up a fight like she characteristically and stubbornly would, but to his pleasant surprise, she finally faced him, opening her eyes. Hazel irises were surrounded by tiny, red blood vessels that signaled exhaustion or some other condition she was in, and the lash lines of her slightly swollen eyes were faintly dark with what he could only assume was the makeup she'd been wearing. A faint pink tinged her skin, particularly her cheeks, but not in the same way it did when she was flushing from embarrassment or nervousness.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing," she responded too quickly, tearing her eyes from his and looking somewhere out of the windshield. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine. You are hungover."

"Yes, I'm hungover, but I'm fine. Can we please go?"

"No."

Her wide, bloodshot eyes turned onto him, filled with disbelief, but Damian went on before she could say anything.

"You are hungover. Your phone battery is depleted, so you called me from an unknown phone number." His voice was laced with annoyance. "You don't want me to know what you did last night or where you did it because you asked me to meet you here at the park rather than whatever hole you woke up in."

Her gaze flickered back and forth between his eyes as if she were trying to find something within them. A tightening of her jaw, tension in her body posture. Damian had apparently put her off, making him almost feel regretful for sounding so accusatory.

"I... don't want to talk about it." Jess's voice was especially soft, wavering with hurt.

She looked away again, facing forward in her seat and crossing her arms. Damian could see a slight shakiness in her chin, a sight that sent a pang of guilt through his chest.

A small voice in his head was urging him to not push her. It was evident that she'd had a difficult night, and though his first instinct and desire was to know absolutely everything about it and find answers to his questions... he had to be a friend first, correct?

_Be a friend._

"Alright," he told her, carefully controlling his voice. "But I don't believe you're in any position to have any driving lessons today. You can get some rest at the manor." He paused, then added, "How does that sound?"

Still sitting with her arms crossed, Jess nodded curtly, so Damian shifted the car into drive and began heading across the city.

Neither of them spoke the entire way. Although he was used to awkward or tense silences, something about this was particularly uncomfortable, a hint of self-doubt sitting at the front of his mind as he contemplated how he'd further approach the situation. Jess was not well in spite of how much she'd insisted otherwise, yet the walls she'd put up were clearly there to keep _him_ out. Was he to climb them or wait until she took them down?

Upon arriving home, Damian had shown her to one of the guest rooms so she could sleep away what was likely her very first hangover, and he'd provided her painkillers and water along with some of his own clothing to change into.

"Drink," he told her as he set the full glass of water and pills on the bedside table.

She followed his direction, wincing after consuming them with half of the water.

"All of it."

Hazel eyes narrowed at him in feign annoyance (or perhaps it was genuine), but she obeyed again, then handing him the empty glass. "Wake me in an hour?"

"You'll need longer than that," he responded as he headed towards the bedroom door. "You can use the intercom to reach me or Alfred, or just text or call me. One of us will bring you more water."

He was halfway out the door when he heard her call his name. She was curled underneath the covers, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over her head and strands of blue peeking out. "Thank you," she nearly whispered.

Though he didn't respond, Damian felt his lips curl up in what was possibly a smile. Something about her appearing so vulnerable and being willing to accept his help stirred warmth in him. How peculiar. No sooner had he made it down the hall than his phone was buzzing in his pocket.

_So that's what it takes to get you to smile_, she'd written.

_Damian: Go to sleep._

_Jess: yes sir_

On his way to the cave, he cast his mind back to their exchange in the car, unable to help himself from wondering what had brought her to the state she was in. Allowing herself to get as drunk as she did had been a foolish thing to do, of course, and surely she hadn't returned home last night, considering her request to be picked up at the park rather than the diner that was a ten-minute walk from the facility. Perhaps she'd stayed at someone's place who lived within about a mile-radius of the park if she'd made the call approximately five to seven minutes before arriving at there...

Analytical thoughts continued to cloud his head as he approached the computer, logging in swiftly and sitting in the chair. Low, recognizable voices from the back of the cave caught part of his undivided attention, bringing it to the two figures approaching him as he went on tapping away at the keyboard.

"Damian?" his father asked from somewhere behind him. "I thought you were out with Jess."

"Did you scare her out of getting driving lessons from you?" Dick joked from beside him.

"She's currently sleeping away a hangover in one of the guest rooms down the hall from mine." His eyes remained on the monitors before him as he said this, not quite in the mood to entertain their questions or Dick's jokes.

Most of upper east Gotham's neighborhood fell into the radius he'd been considering, but he could easily narrow it down if he pinged Jess's phone for its last known location and compared it to Misty's...

"What are you doing?"

An impatient sigh left Damian's mouth as he gestured toward the map and phone records he'd been scouring. Before he could answer, Bruce was speaking, his blue eyes taking in the information with quick scrutiny.

"He wants to know where Jess has been."

Both of them were looking at him now, his father's face unreadable but Dick regarding him with an inquisitive gaze.

"She called me from an unknown number at 10:56 this morning when we'd agreed to meet at eleven and asked me to pick her up at Robinson Park instead of Daisy's Diner," Damian began to explain, brows furrowed in deep thought. "That means she was at least four minutes too far from the diner, yet I arrived at the park at approximately 11:05, and she was already there."

"Damian..." Bruce began, but his son ignored him.

"Taking into account that she wasn't sober enough to run without tripping over her own feet, one can only assume she called me from somewhere within a one-mile radius from the park, perhaps less. If I ping Misty's recent cell phone locations as well as Jessica's, I should be able—"

"Damian, stop."

Dick was staring at him, concerned. Beside him, Bruce was silent, face stoic as he watched his youngest son ramble on.

"What?" Damian demanded, miffed that he'd been interrupted _twice_ and that they were looking at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"What's your motive behind all this?"

The younger Wayne met his older brother's gaze with a raised brow. "She didn't want to tell me what happened to her last night. She doesn't want to talk about it, so I'll find out myself. It won't be difficult."

_And I can have my answer in less than five minutes if you let me be. _

Dick reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose before approaching Damian at the computer. Green eyes looked him up and down, recognizing another incoming lecture in his body language.

"Don't you think that maybe... you could respect her boundaries? And let her tell you when she wants to?"

"She hasn't uttered a single word about what she's done in the past two years let alone the facts that she is a juvenile delinquent and a meta-human," Damian countered smoothly, eyes narrowing as he sat up in the computer chair. "I would be astounded if she managed to open up anytime soon."

Dick opened his mouth to respond, but Bruce had cut in.

"Is it really that important she tells you her greatest secrets?"

"Yes, if I'm to trust her honesty and integrity."

Eyes trained on the teen, he said, "Damian, it will probably take some time for her to tell you these things. Consider how much you have to trust someone to tell them you're Robin—she likely won't reveal those parts of herself unless she really knows she can trust _you_."

Irritation flared under his skin at his father's words. How ironic that he was saying such a thing.

"Revealing my Robin persona is not nearly the same thing as coming clean about her secrets."

"Maybe. Regardless of what you think, it might be best to refrain from investigating her whereabouts and let her explain when she wants."

"That's rich coming from you, Father," Damian snapped, rising to his feet as his body flooded with heat. "You vet nearly every single person with whom you cross paths. How many times have you tracked our whereabouts over the last several years?"

"Alright, can we scale this back?" he heard Dick suggest, seeing him in the corner of his eye, raising a hand towards the teen as if that would make Damian relax from his tense position.

But frustration was biting at his nerves, and old memories of the last several years were invading his headspace as he held Bruce's gaze, reminding him of why—

No. He couldn't allow himself to think about that while having this so-called discussion with Dick and his father. There was no time for becoming caught up in buried emotions and having his intentions questioned.

"I think what he's trying to say," Dick started in a calm voice, splitting a gaze between the two Waynes, "is that you need to just focus on being friends with Jess. Let her come to you when she feels comfortable."

He hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, "You've done this before in the past, you know..."

He might as well have added "And it didn't work," because Damian heard it in his voice. It triggered another cluster of memories, ones that made his chest feel heavy, reminding him that there'd been several times he thought he was doing "the right thing" and it had only led to disaster.

_You should have learned the first time._

"I'm taking care of her. Is that not an indication of being a good friend?" Damian asked, voice tight as he crossed his arms and leveled his gaze with the both of them.

"It is," Bruce answered, seemingly unfazed by his son's mild outburst.

"And you should continue being a friend. Just... reconsider this, okay?" Dick gestured towards the map on the screen before laying his open, blue eyes on Damian. Was that sympathy in them?

The teen remained silent, his own eyes falling from the computer screen to the floor, face blank as he worked to keep composure. The displeasure and hot frustration were palpable in his chest, uncomfortable and making his limbs itch with a desire to hit something.

"Do you still want me to take Titus to his vet appointment later since you'll probably still be with Jess?"

Judging by the sudden patience in his older brother's voice, the man was likely trying to keep Damian from becoming anymore upset than he currently felt. It made him torn between feeling understood and pathetic at the same time... like he was cared for but also like he was _fragile_.

"She may be recovered by then," Damian finally answered, still not looking at Dick or his father. "Perhaps she'll come with me, so no."

Eternity seemed to pass as he waited for the faint sound of the door closing, signaling that they had both made it into the manor. Hand clenching and releasing at his side, he stared intently at the map he'd pulled up, fighting many battles at once. A part of him wanted to pursue this investigation of the reason behind Jess's secretive behavior, a part of him wanted to be a friend. A part of him wanted to slice a training dummy to pieces, another part willed self-control.

Damian Wayne didn't always know control.

Though the concept had been a constant necessity in all things he'd ever learned growing up and training, life and all its trials and tribulations tended to put it to the test—and, if he were truly being honest, he hadn't passed some of the time.

Inhaling through his nose and breathing out through his mouth, twice, he finally reached for the keyboard and tapped at a few keys, closing all the program windows he'd opened. The echoes of his footsteps bounced faintly around him as he made his way back to the door, the familiar urges and spell of suppressed anger dissipating with each step.

Damian Wayne didn't always know control, but that didn't mean he never tried.

* * *

**Note: **to answer **LoveKitaSoMuch**'s question about an update schedule, i honestly don't really have one. i've had a couple bursts of inspiration in the last few weeks which is why i was updating pretty often, but i also work from home (and am quarantined like everyone else lol) so i've had that freedom to write whenever i want basically. at the very least, i'm trying to update once every week!

weird fact: i had a dream about Jess and Damian the other night, so i might have to pull from that for this story in the future 'cause some interesting things happened o.O lol

also, sorry if Jason's bit was shorter than expected, but y'know, Jess wasn't gonna hang around him for longer than necessary. i promise he's coming back ;)


	16. All Too Well

**Note: **uhhhhh i apologize in advance for how heavy and WEIGHTY this chapter is...

CW: death

* * *

"_How can you miss someone you've never met?_

'_Cause I need you now, but I don't know you yet_

_But can you find me soon because I'm in my head?_

_Yeah, I need you now, but I don't know you yet"_

_~ Alexander 23, "IDK You Yet"_

* * *

**Chapter 16: All Too Well**

Jess had never really been the confrontational type.

A few times, she'd been the one to bring up a difficult subject or address a sensitive issue before someone else did, but more often than not, she kept her mouth shut and waited for the other party to make a move. Disagreement with her parents? Wait it out and see if they approached her about it. Pissed off a friend? Give them space and maybe they'll forget.

Time spent on her own as a runaway after her parents' deaths had changed that a little. Being on her own, not knowing who exactly to trust, and trying to survive had hardened her in ways she didn't think were possible… not after she'd already been broken. So when she'd woken up in an unrecognizable apartment earlier this week with a dark-haired stranger, all her instincts had kicked in despite the heavy hangover, and every part of her body had gone into survival mode.

Feeling his heartbeat and blood pressure from across the dim living room had told her he was telling the truth about how she'd ended up in his private home—that or he was very good at monitoring his vitals when lying and could easily pass a lie detector. Still, Jess had given him a very _small_ benefit of the doubt, which hung solely on the red helmet he'd pointed out to her. If there was anything she could remember from her night, it was seeing that unfamiliar mask right before she'd blacked out.

And apparently this Jason Todd didn't care to keep his identity a secret.

He'd crossed her mind a few times since then as she wondered if she'd ever heard of him as one of Gotham's heroes, as "Red Hood." Was he less-known? Was he a new vigilante? Did he know Batman and Robin? How did he manage to do what he did while living an apartment that was a lot less impressive than she'd assumed most vigilantes would have? Would she end up running in to him again, either under his heroic identity or as Jason? And if that wasn't enough to mull over, there was the fact that the situation had prompted her to use her powers again after she'd decided she wouldn't... not for as long as she could. Yet feeling in danger and resorting to them to protect herself was nothing new, considering everything she had been through in the last few years.

It was nearly an instinct, a reflex, now to use her abilities when she was anxious, frightened, threatened... and she hated it.

But the most pressing thing on her mind lately had been the fact that she'd managed to let herself become so inebriated that night, and she'd had to avoid telling Damian the truth. After he'd allowed her to rest at his place that day, he dropped her off at the same bookstore he'd taken her to several times before, neither of them mentioning her night again. Guilt and hesitation had haunted her since then, making Jess torn between being open with him and keeping him shut out. The few times they'd seen each other since then, they both acted normally, Damian not acting out of the ordinary, but that didn't mean Jess was able to get the nagging feeling out of her head that she should say something.

So before he'd left for the day after only an hour at the library, she'd stopped him in the storage room after several minutes debating with herself.

"Do you have a few minutes?" she forced the question out, voice quiet and trying to ignore the nervousness in her chest.

His green eyes examined her carefully while he stood in the doorway, as if he could sense her anxiety. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes—I mean, no." Jess glanced around, trying to make sure there were no other employees or volunteers beyond the stacks of boxes and half-empty shelves around them. The storage room was fairly large, and she didn't want a soul to hear their conversation.

"Come with me," Damian then said, reading her apprehensive posture and tilting his head towards the door before he left the room.

Taking a deep breath, she followed him out of the entryway to the stairs and up to the second floor. They passed a few library goers sitting at tables or skimming bookshelves until they reached one of the library's corners near the Thesis and Dissertations sections. Two empty tables awaited them, one of the window's blinds pulled up to let daylight spill in. The two of them occupied one, sitting across from each other, Damian facing the light sunshine that highlighted his eyes and the unreadable look on his face. The wrinkle between his brows that was usually permanent was delicate, like his next reaction would determine whether it'd deepen into a scowl or relax into a more pleasant expression.

"Not many people come to this area," he said, looking around at their surroundings, "so whatever it is you want to tell me should go unheard."

"Oh. Good..."

She unintentionally averted her gaze, looking at the painting of a boat on the shore that hung behind him, feeling him watching her.

A long beat of silence passed before he said her name, and Jess then met his eyes, seeing that they were searching hers, trying to figure out what was on her mind and why they were sitting there, alone and in secrecy.

"I need to be honest and serious with you for a minute," she began quietly, hands in her lap as they fiddled with the zipper of her jacket.

"Okay."

After a deep breath, Jess found herself staring at the laminated wood of the table as she continued, "It's not exactly easy for me to trust anyone right now. I've... been through some things recently, and as much as I do want to tell you about them, I just can't. Not yet."

Her eyes darted up to his. She couldn't read them or the calm expression on his face, but at least he didn't seem obviously upset or bothered. That was good... right?

"They're the reason I got so, um, drunk this past weekend. I probably shouldn't have been so secretive about what it was that I did, especially since you went out of your way to pick me up at the park, but I just need you to understand it's not you... It's nothing personal.

"You're really one of the first friends I've had in a while, so I do want to share parts of my life with you. Before I do that though, I have to make sure I... I have to make sure it won't be a mistake."

Swallowing hard to try and combat the lump that'd formed in her throat, Jess held his patient gaze; she could practically see the gears turning in his head. Maybe he was upset that she'd basically said she didn't fully trust him, even though she'd tried to be polite about it. Maybe he suddenly didn't care to be friends anymore.

Damian leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table. "I... appreciate your honesty, though I'll admit I was not expecting you to say all of that." His eyes flickered away briefly before meeting hers again. "You weren't obligated to tell me about your night or your whereabouts, but... I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me something, Jessica."

She would've been lying if she'd said she wasn't a little surprised his response was kinder than expected.

"I just want to make it clear that it's not because you're doing something wrong," Jess explained, subconsciously twisting the ring around her finger. "As cliche as it sounds, it's me. You have been really great to hang around with, it's just that I need to reach a certain point before... you know, I tell you anything really personal."

"I understand." The wrinkle between his brows was almost gone, the look on his face almost amiable.

The ball of anxiety that'd been in her chest was dissipating, and she felt like she could breathe evenly again. "Thanks... I don't think you know how relieved I am that you do... I was really hoping I wouldn't, um, offend you."

He raised a single brow. "As irritating as you might be at times, you've never offended me."

The smile morphed into a grin. "I'd much rather be the everyday pain in your ass."

Rolling his eyes, he then said, the ghost of a smirk at his lips, "That you are."

"I'll wear the title with pride," she boasted before asking, "Did you wanna hang out tomorrow?"

"You don't want to come over today?"

And just like that, they were back to normal, sending relief through her body and replacing the nervousness she'd previously felt.

"Actually, I'm hanging out with Misty and another friend. But tomorrow, I can after I have this interview at that one restaurant I told you about."

"The one I said has satisfactory food."

"The one you recommended, yep. So if you want to pick me up after, we can do those driving lessons?"

"Sure," Damian answered before he checked his watch. "I need to leave to help my father and Dick in the yard. There's a leak somewhere in the gutters."

Jess stood from the table with him, and as they started towards the stairs, she told him, "You must be looking forward to physical labor and getting all dirty."

"I'm just assisting them to ensure they know how to climb a ladder properly."

"Wasn't Dick an acrobat or something when he was a kid?" she practically snorted.

Damian paused, gaze still ahead of him, then he answered, "Tt. You wouldn't believe how many injuries he's still had over the years."

They were near the front of the library when he turned to her, face suddenly more serious than it'd been a minute ago. "Jessica."

"Yes...?" Hazel eyes looked him over, intrigued at his change in demeanor.

_Why does it feel like you're going to tell me something I don't want to hear?_

"Be more careful when you are out drinking," Damian said firmly, his gaze pinning her in place with sharpness that made her feel like she was vulnerable and stripped of her walls. How did he manage to do that so easily? "If you need a ride, you can call me."

For a brief moment, she wanted to snap at him for being so condescending, but then she reeled that feeling back, reminding herself he was just being a friend and looking out for her. Because isn't that what friends did? At least he wasn't telling her she should stop drinking, period—though she knew that, too, maybe he realized it was better to offer his help than tell her what to do.

Especially since Damian wasn't the only one who could be stubborn.

"I don't think I'll be having another drink anytime soon," Jess tried to reassure him, shrugging lightly. "But I will keep that in mind."

Giving her another stern look, Damian then started heading towards the library doors, and she stared after him, wondering if he really believed what she'd said.

She didn't even believe herself.

* * *

When the clean, white Porsche rolled up to the sidewalk as Jess began her trip from the library to the facility, she'd barely paid it any attention. Her earbuds were plugged in to some upbeat music that put a light spring in her step, and her mind was wandering into thoughts about whether she'd eat a late lunch or wait until dinner. It wasn't until a familiar face was practically walking in front of her to catch her attention, waving a hand, that Jess snapped out of her head and pulled the buds out of her ears.

"Oh, hey, Dick," she greeted with a smile and stopping in her tracks. "What're you doing around here?"

Dick wasn't returning the smile, and that alone made her heart skip a beat though she didn't really know why. He was always cheerful, wasn't he?

"I was going to call, but I figured I'd come by when you finished your shift in case you wanted to come back with me..."

His next words had her heart sinking into the very pit of her stomach, bringing her spirits down with it. It didn't help that the man's face, which was usually alight with some kind of merriment, was void of that happiness, instead darkened with clear dejection that looked wrong on him.

Even if she did have plans for after her library shift, Jess still wouldn't have hesitated to get in the passenger seat of the luxury car and accompany Dick back to his home. She wasn't sure she would have been able to try going on about her day after hearing this news, and she couldn't imagine if he hadn't told her—though Jess would have completely respected that—and she'd gone on not knowing this had happened.

Especially since Damian was her friend, and he may have needed one.

Dick hadn't exactly said that to her, but Jess had assumed as much, thinking about how she'd approach him while they rode silently back to the manor. In fact, he hadn't really indicated what he expected her to do.

"He hasn't spoken to any of us… at all," he'd said solemnly.

"Do you want me to...?"

"I just don't want him to be alone," was all Dick had clarified, leaving Jess to conclude that it was up to her what to do.

Well, now it made sense why she hadn't heard from Damian since they'd had that impromptu talk; he hadn't responded to any of her texts or calls, not even when they were supposed to start those refresher lessons. She'd assumed at first that he was busy spending time with his family or had forgotten to reply but then started wondering if he'd lost his phone. At one moment, her mind had gone so far as thinking he was avoiding her because of something she'd done or said.

She would have taken any of those over what had apparently really happened.

As they entered the manor, she turned to Dick just as he informed her that Damian had been in his room all day. Bruce and Alfred were nowhere to be seen as she made her way up the stairs, the mansion seemingly much quieter than it usually was. The silence filled her ears and almost taunted her, making her chest feel uncomfortable with anxiety and gloom.

His door was shut when she approached it, and judging by the darkness underneath, there didn't appear to be any lights on. A single rap on the door was met by silence as Jess stood there, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Taking a slow, steady breath, she knocked again, saying softly, "Damian? It's me, Jess..."

Did she dare say Dick had picked her up and told her what had happened? Would that get the man in trouble with his younger brother?

_I understand if you don't want to see me or anyone at all right now. I can leave if you want me to._

A long moment seemed to pass, and just as Jess began considering her next words (or simply leaving), the door was opening. In the hallway light from behind her, Damian's face was illuminated as he looked at her, green eyes clouded with something that looked a lot like poorly-masked pain and sadness. All he wore was a simple, grey t-shirt and sweats, his hair looking, for once, a little disheveled.

He may have been good, even excellent, at controlling his facial expressions and disposition more than anyone she'd ever met... but at the moment, she could see that he was almost falling apart at the seams. There wasn't any immediate evidence that he'd been crying (had Damian ever shed a tear before?), but he may as well have been. If someone could cry without tears, bloodshot eyes, and an ugly crying face, it was him.

It was all in his eyes, in the way they spoke volumes as he stared at her.

She couldn't find it in herself to speak, but he was stepping back anyway, wordlessly inviting her in. A lamp beside his queen-sized bed was on its lowest setting, barely washing the large bedroom in dim, yellowish light. The few other times Jess had been here, it'd always been pretty clean and put together. Her first impression had been that his bare walls, made bed, and neatly organized desk and bookshelf were boring but also very Damian at the same time. Today, his dark blue comforter was thrown lazily across the mattress, a few clothes had been strewn onto the hardwood floor, and the curtains were drawn closed, blocking out the daylight.

In the corner, where it'd always sat, was Titus's large dog bed, empty.

Her stomach lurched at the sight, making Jess turn to see Damian had closed the door and was now facing her. But his face was turned slightly away, like he couldn't look at her straight on. Green eyes, hardly visible, were dark and boring into something (or maybe nothing) above her head. His jaw was set tightly—in fact, his entire body seemed that way; at first, she'd expected him to be overcome with just heavy sadness, but she could see now that _rage_ had also taken hold of him. It tightened his shoulders, his whole figure, making her worry for a fleeting moment that he'd tremble and burst from all the agony.

Jess didn't really know if Damian was or wasn't an affectionate person with people. She didn't know how he handled emotional situations, how he handled pain. She didn't know how much he liked his personal space, if he was averse to physical contact... But right now, she decided not to overthink any of that. She would try, and then, maybe she'd find out.

Stepping forward, the teen slipped her arms underneath his and embraced him, gently pressing the side of her face against his chest, the top of her head grazing his jaw. The recognizable scents of wood and amber met her nose, the strongest she'd ever smelled his fragrance before. Unsurprisingly, his body was just as rigid as it'd looked, and she half-expected him to remain this way, not returning the gesture, which would've been okay with her.

Yet a moment later, his arms were wrapping around her, and she could _feel_ the tension easing in him, his posture relaxing into the slight sobs that were taking over and shaking his figure. Seconds passed, and with them, Damian's grip seemed to grow stronger, like the hug was all he had to curb the loss and pain. Jess couldn't hear him, unable to tell if he was really crying and shedding tears, but none of that mattered. All that did matter was she was here, and he wasn't alone. He didn't have to harbor the grief by himself—as they stood there in his room, holding each other, she knew that for whatever reason, she was willing to share it all with him.

* * *

Jess knew loss and grief all too well.

She remembered clearly how her parents' deaths had ripped a gaping hole in her entire being, filling her with nothing but hurt and pain that she'd never have guessed she would ever experience. To this day, that half-healed wound still throbbed every now and then when she saw their faces in her mind or was reminded of a lame joke her dad had made after seeing a meme on the internet. For months afterward, her brain would trick her into thinking the brunette woman walking down the sidewalk across the street was Portia Fairchild, alive and healthy and well, or a sharp bark of laughter would sound suspiciously like Ian's. It was cruel, the way the world wanted to point out what she'd lost—Jess had wanted nothing more than to turn it all off, all the feelings, the thoughts, the memories, the realization that those memories were what she had left.

Maybe this was the first time Damian had lost a part of his family, a companion he'd loved and cared for, or maybe it wasn't. Either way, she knew it hurt all the same… because why would something so heartbreaking sting any less?

The sun was setting, spilling various shades of purple, blue, and orange across the sky in the manor's backyard and highlighting the tree-line that separated the property from Gotham's inner city. The three-inch gap between the curtains allowed some of that light to enter his bedroom they were still in, telling Jess that the day was coming to an end.

And just like that, the world kept on, the planet continued to spin, the days began and ended, while people like them stayed hostage in their own little bubbles of misery and anger, where that pain never began and ended and was always going to be there. Stuck in place, no matter how hard they tried to run if they did.

She wasn't sure how long they'd stood by his door, in each other's arms, while her friend struggled to contain himself, but eventually they ended up next to one another on his bed, still not having said a single word. Damian was on his back, face turned up to the ceiling as she laid on her side, arm tucked underneath her head on one of the pillows. Against the light of the lamp that was on the other side of him, Jess's gaze could easily trace the outline of his profile from the slope of his forehead, up and over his nose, to the curve of his lips and down to his chin. Every now and then, the movement of eyelashes indicated he was blinking as he continued to stare upward; if she had to guess, he wasn't seeing the white paint of his ceiling at all.

Earlier, his phone on his bedside table had vibrated a few times. When he'd picked it up to silence it, Jess caught a glimpse of the contact name "Simpleton." Whomever that was, they didn't call again—probably because he turned off the device, and it hadn't made a sound since then.

Other than that disturbance, the two of them had been in pressing silence. Even the birds that occasionally sang and chattered around the manor and flown above them when they'd hung out outdoors were quiet, like they knew… like they were in mourning, too. A small part of Jess wanted to say something, anything to offer the tiniest bit of comfort or let him know that she was there, that she cared, that she understood. But he knew, didn't he? Maybe it was in her head, but she felt like there was something in the air around them, an unspoken apology, a mutual understanding… a bond forming that hadn't been there before. She'd felt it in their embrace, how—despite the infancy of their friendship and what more they had to learn about each other—she wanted to squeeze the grief from him because pain like that could easily swallow someone whole.

Not even someone as seemingly strong and hardheaded as Damian Wayne was immune to such despair.

"I knew it was coming."

The words were low, barely above a strained whisper that poked through the thick stillness and almost startled Jess. Beside her, he was still staring intently at the ceiling, like he wanted it to open up and suck him into nothingness.

"I just didn't think it would be this soon."

His voice faltered towards the end, and she could see how he choked on the words by the way his throat moved and tightened, a vein popping out from under his skin. That same stiffness was returning in Damian's body, and he was fighting it as he had been earlier before the hug.

Jess didn't say anything. What could she say that would make any of this better? Instead, she scooted closer to him until she could rest her head against his shoulder, shifting her limbs so that she was grasping his upper arm in her own while he remained on his back. Damian's chest rose and fell in staggered, barely-controlled breathing that seemed to slow a little over the next few minutes, hours, whatever frame of time passed. Beyond their entwined figures and out the window, the sun continued to set in the horizon, its vibrant colors darkening until the sky was a single shade of bluish-black.

* * *

There were several things in life that managed to make him feel weak, which were several more than he ever wanted to admit.

For nearly a decade, he'd mastered the art of only allowing himself to feel what he wanted and what he thought was appropriate. Only about two or three times had he ever been truly… powerless... against something that was strong enough to reach his core and break him—Damian didn't take the phrase "moments of weakness" lightly.

Despite everything his family had taught him and all he'd learned, emotions and all the dangers and frailty that came with them had always been undesirable territory to the young man. Things like _feelings_ and _love_ were most often what brought out the worst in people. They made people vulnerable, reckless, unstable, _stupid_, and he'd always thought himself to be in more control and simply not idiotic enough to let that personally happen. The idea of becoming so thin-skinned, overly emotional or merely out-of-control were, admittedly, his worst fears.

His own family, his own parents and, if he were being truthful, his past self not too long ago, were evidence of that.

"Waiting for the day Baby Bats ever gets caught in his feelings," Jason had once said.

It was no secret that Damian prided himself in being tough and emotionally mature, so the half-joke made by his rougher, older brother, who was always looking for ways to push the wrong button and struggled with his own baggage, only made sense.

What if Jason saw him now?

Frankly, he happened to be the only one that hadn't reached out to Damian. Everyone else had called. He hadn't returned any of them, so some had decided to send a text, such as Tim, who'd written something simple and straightforward:

_Dick told me about Titus. I'm sorry to hear about him. Let me and Steph know if you need anything._

Luckily, they all knew him well enough to understand that attempting to contact him after more than one or two calls would be moot, and they'd decrease any chances—which were already minimal—of the teen responding. Their calls would continue to be sent to voicemail, messages left on read. Besides, he'd made it clear to Bruce that no one was to attend the informal funeral that would be held in the backyard, not a single person besides him, Dick, and Alfred.

And Jess.

Before she had arrived unexpectedly at his bedroom door, he hadn't known how powerful a simple gesture could be. He'd embraced family members before albeit not often, but never had he experienced what it felt like to be held the way she held him. His own gaze turned away, he'd still been able to feel the kind, hazel eyes that appraised him—"_Let me in?"_ they seemed to ask him—then her arms had pulled their bodies together, snapping something in him that broke the mental walls he'd been working to repair… and for some unnameable reason, he didn't fight it. He couldn't anymore. The feeling of another person being so close, the unfamiliar warmth of her figure—her grasp was gentle as if she didn't want to break him any further than he already was, and that alone made it hurt more.

But with her pressed against him, small arms wrapped around his back, the pain that tore at his insides and ached to pull him apart had almost felt more bearable. He hadn't realized it until later, after she'd continued offering comfort in the darkness and silence of his room, yet at that moment, Jess had done more than hold him, more than what he'd ever guessed she could do: she'd held him together.

Days later, the sky above them was a blanket of grey-white clouds, brightened by the sunlight that they hid, and a light wind had picked up, swaying the trees around them and breezing through his hair. Like everyone else, Damian was wearing black, having thrown on a sweater and jeans and uncharacteristically not bothering to glance in the mirror. At his side, Jess had donned a black turtleneck, her hair, which had started fading to a cerulean blue (almost a silvery, sky blue in some parts), in a high ponytail to combat the wind.

They were standing with the rest of his family in the back corner of the yard, a large, rectangular hole in front of them, the grassy, brown dirt that had been dug up sitting in a mound next to it. A few feet away, his father was saying something, his voice a muffled noise in the background of Damian's thoughts. Looking anywhere near the grave made it difficult to breathe; his eyes flickered to the trees ahead of them as he swallowed against the hard lump in his throat.

A sudden gust of wind brought goosebumps across his skin, but he paid little attention, hearing someone say his name. Dick's patient, blue-eyed gaze was on him, a question posed on his features. After a moment's hesitation, the teen shook his head once, earning a "Are you sure?" from his older brother.

More silence without a gesture from him this time. Having confirmed his answer, Dick proceeded to walk towards the grave with Bruce, their movements in the corner of Damian's eye as he continued staring straight ahead. He was perfectly aware of what they were doing, and he didn't need that small voice in his head to tell him that if he dared watch, what little resilience he had left would vaporize.

Reflexively, his hand opened and closed tightly at his side as he hoped the motion would relieve the tension that was creeping back into his muscles. Something touched his forearm then, startling him—a glance down showed him that Jess was reaching for him, her fingers wrapping lightly around his balled fist. Her eyes were watching the two men, but she must have felt his gaze because now she was looking up at him. That was when Damian noticed the shine in them, accompanied by the slight pink tinting her cheeks, a look he'd only seen once before on her.

He had to fight the urge to move away, an instinct that had also been there when she'd first touched him through her sudden embrace. _Let her in._ It took a few moments, but Damian then forced his hand to relax until her fingers met his palm and slid between his, effectively clasping them together. Her skin was warm amid the chilling air; in some way, the small gesture and physical contact, as mild as it seemed, began to spread a warmness through him that held the pain and grief at bay.

They hadn't spoken much since she had come over to keep him company, though it felt like many things had been said since then… if that were even possible. Damian had grown used to a lot of talking and less doing over the years—promises, advice, feelings expressed through words and nothing more—so this was far different. Perhaps she'd made the decision to let him speak when he wanted to, or maybe she didn't believe she was very good with verbal comfort and consolation, but whatever the case, it seemed they had managed to speak in gestures and through body language, something he had never really done with those close to him. A pat on the back here, a simple "I'm proud of you" there. Not that those things had never meant anything to him, but he wasn't sure he could deny there was something new that felt nearly tangible between him and his friend now.

Or was that just the grief talking?

Although he could not explicitly describe what her eyes were telling him right then and there, the soft squeeze of her hand and then the step closer to lean her head against his shoulder told him all he needed to know.

* * *

"And you're sure he'll be okay without you there?"

The question, though he'd been prepared to answer it and tell her 'yes,' still made him pause in his thoughts as Bruce walked the hallway of the manor, having left his bedroom after changing into more comfortable clothing that wasn't covered in grass and dirt. He knew that Damian would be 'okay' either way, and truthfully, he wasn't so sure that staying around at the manor would particularly make things any better for anyone.

"He's already told me he doesn't want us to cancel. If I stayed, he would pester me about not going. Plus, Dick is still here for another week or so."

"So you're going to have Dick and Alfred look after him while we're gone."

"Damian isn't a child, Selina. And even if he was, you and I both know he wouldn't need a babysitter," Bruce responded, heading down the staircase and absentmindedly dragging his hand lightly along the banister. "Besides, that's not what I mean. I'm saying Damian won't be alone."

There was a short pause at the other end of the line, then a sigh. "I know. I just want to make sure you're not going to be in hot water, especially with him."

Her words elicited a chuckle from the man as he made his way down another hall and inhaled through his nose, trying to guess whatever dinner Alfred had begun whipping up. "You mean hotter water than I'm already in."

"Exactly… But if we're still on then, I will see you tomorrow afternoon."

"We are."

"I'm holding you to that. No going back now."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

As soon as he ended the call and pocketed the earpiece, continuing on his way, a faint noise caught his attention. Stopping in his tracks, then walking backwards a few feet to pause in front of a cracked door on his left, Bruce peered in to see a figure sitting in the partial darkness on the bed in what looked to be a guest room—had he been in this one before? What daylight remained filtered in through the nearby window, falling across her blue hair. She was reaching up to rub the heels of her hands in her eyes before wiping at them with her sleeve.

He hesitated for a moment before knocking once. "Jess?" he said gently as he pushed the door open a little more.

Wide eyes fell upon him first in surprise, then embarrassment. She straightened up and swiped hastily at her face again, but it was too late; though the light came in from behind her, he'd already caught the swollen and shiny, red eyes. Part of him felt guilty for intruding, yet another felt a paternal need to comfort her, a sense that was no different than what he'd been experiencing with his youngest son, who was battling an unexpected loss and the grief that came with it.

"S-sorry, I… I didn't think anyone would mind me being here," Jess tried to say, gesturing around the room and glancing up at him before looking quickly away.

"No need to apologize," Bruce replied as he stood there, contemplating whether he would stay or leave. His gaze darted around the room, onto the bedside tables and out the window, where the wind, having grown stronger since they'd gone inside, was bending the trees and rain splattered against the glass.

_Hmm. Isn't there usually a tissue box in each guest room?_

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. I think so," she replied softly with a weak smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before glancing out the window. The rain, which had started light, was starting to make pitter-patter sounds as the tiny droplets grew bigger, the only noise besides her occasional sniffs.

"It's kind of dumb, isn't it?"

Blue eyes landed back onto her figure as she stared at the floor in front of her. "What is?"

She gave a lazy shrug. "He wasn't my dog... I didn't really, you know, know him that long."

A small wrinkle formed between his brows as he appraised her, curious about the words that were leaving her mouth. Crossing the room, Bruce sat next to her at the edge of the bed. "You don't think you can mourn him?"

"I don't know," she admitted, hands pulling nervously at her sleeves in her lap. "It just doesn't... feel right. I don't feel like I should be—"

Her throat visibly moved with the swallow she made as she remained still. Although she'd cut herself off, Bruce had a feeling he knew what she'd been about to say.

_You don't feel like you should be here._

"You're allowed to be here, with us."

Jess turned to the window again, and from where he sat, he could see another tear escaping from the corner of her eye. She didn't bother reaching up to wipe it away, the wetness falling to her chin that trembled ever so slightly.

"He said he didn't want anyone else here today, not even his other siblings. Is that true?"

She turned to him then, glistening eyes waiting for an answer.

Bruce was silent for a moment, wondering to himself how and why this teenage girl before him was so torn about her own feelings and presence in his home. Yet, he felt like he knew. He'd seen it before. She likely struggled with the concept of being important and valued enough to be considered a friend let alone anything more than how she saw herself. Perhaps her past experiences had degraded her own self-image, how much she found herself worthy. He was reminded briefly of what Barry had said months ago, that Jess had exhibited signs of survivor's guilt after the accident, according to her therapist. Whether that had anything to do with the way she behaved now and went about her current life, Bruce could only guess.

But the unavoidable questions of self-worth and what people thought they deserved and didn't? He had undoubtedly been there many times. He understood that internal battle all too well.

"It's true," he began in an even voice, "but it doesn't mean you're any less deserving of being here for him. He wanted you here for a reason."

His words must have triggered something in her because she was crying again, a sob bubbling up in her that she tried to control with a hand pressed to her face. Bruce's hand twitched with a desire to reach out, but he could only stay still, heart tightening within his chest at the sight.

"I'm s-sorry, I just..." Her hands rubbed at her face again as she sniffled, voice muffled slightly behind her fingers. "It's been a long t-time since anyone really... c-cared to have me around."

_I know._

He couldn't help it. Bruce shifted a little closer to her, placing his hand carefully on her shoulder that shook with her cries.

But in spite of his overwhelming, fatherly instinct to comfort her and offer more kind, optimistic words, there was that part of him looking at her in a different light, one that always saw the worst in every person, situation, and intention. The opposite of rose-colored glasses, this innate filter that he'd walked around with for nearly all his life showed a girl who could very well make or break the young man she'd befriended, the one who happened to be his own son. And this wasn't just some gut feeling or overprotective thinking on his part—Bruce had mentioned it to Dick once they'd realized the teens' friendship was progressing more than they'd anticipated, and Dick had understood the concern. The worry wasn't quite far fetched then, was it?

They both had seen Damian break like this before, and it'd been by the hands of another girl who'd managed to get past his barriers the same way Jess seemed to be now.

And whatever the worst outcome from this blossoming friendship might be, Bruce _knew—_he _feared_—it would be deeply rooted in the ties between them that she didn't realize existed. Why? Because the other girl had been a normal civilian that his son had fallen for, and the other half of Damian's life alone had made things complicated enough.

But Damian Wayne, aka Robin, plus Jessica Fairchild, meta-human juvenile delinquent with a plagued past, plus the unforeseen variable that was their history only equaled something that could go very well or horribly wrong. A recipe, an equation for disaster.

"I say we see how it goes, B," Dick had said that day. "We'll be here for him regardless of how things pan out."

But who, outside of their family, would be there for him, too?

Jess was speaking again, having calmed and taken a few deep breaths. The corner of her mouth was lifted in the best smile she could give. "I just want to say I appreciate you guys for letting me hang around. It's been, um, pretty rough since my parents died, and..." Her voice trailed off as she looked down at her hands yet again.

"You don't have to explain," he told her, lifting his hand from her shoulder. Without hesitation, he added, "I lost my parents, too, when I was young."

Her eyes seemed to search his own for answers that he wasn't sure he had. "How did you do it?" she asked, her voice soft.

He raised a brow in questioning, prompting her to clarify, "How did you… cope?"

Bruce looked away, settling his gaze outside the window again. It felt, momentarily, like the incoming darkness of the night and the rain were speaking to him, reminding him of that fateful night that was seared into his memory.

"I didn't," he then answered honestly, meeting her eyes again. "But I got by because I was lucky enough to have other people who were there for me." An image of Alfred flashed in his mind's eye. "I learned to keep them close."

He then added, "So thank you for being there for Damian. I don't think he realizes what it's like to have a friend that isn't his own brother."

"Dick's pretty cool though."

The two of them grinned at the same time, and for a moment, Bruce forgot about the apprehensive thoughts that had previously occupied his mind.

She stood then, reaching up to smooth back her hair. "I should probably go find Damian. He wanted to put something on in the theater while we wait to eat."

"Jess."

Hazel irises turned onto him with brows raised in curiosity.

_I hope you stick around._

"Just know it's okay if you two don't join us for dinner. And you can stay as long as you like, even while I'm gone."

_Even if he hurts you._

Jess nodded once. "Thanks, Bruce." Her face lit up briefly in a smile that was more genuine than the last before she began moving towards the door, Bruce looking on after her.

_Because he won't mean to. He never does._

* * *

**Note: **sorry it took me a while to update! i got really busy at work and then i had the worst writer's block :( (so i've been playing a lot of video games to give myself a break lol) anyway, thanks for your patience and i hope you enjoyed this one. thank you to everyone who reviewed chap 15!

**SnowQueen19**, your commendation for how i've portrayed Damian warms my heart 'cause doing him and his character development justice was and continues to be a big priority of mine! tysm :')

**curlystruggle **and **LadyAmazon**, i couldn't agree more. i foresee these two making a lot more mistakes in the future while they figure themselves and each other out with all the other stuff that's to come...

as if this entire chapter wasn't already a huge road bump! sorry for pulling at your heartstrings. i really pulled mine while writing it. probably doesn't help that i added more somber music to the playlist i listen to when writing this fic haha (like the song at the top where the lyrics are written—safe to say it was a source of inspiration for this chapter).

until next time, xx


	17. The Present, A Friend

**Note: **THANK U ALL SO MUCH for the reviews and the love for this story/last chapter! i'm so glad yall like the chaotic ideas that come from my imagination lol. my heart's with those of you that said chap. 16 hit home (insert heart emoji since i can't really do the 3 for whatever reason). think i said this in a previous update, but writing the bat-fam accurately and well is certainly important to me for this. i also appreciate that Jess is getting her share of love, too :')

still have lots of good stuff planned for the next couple chaps! in the meantime, hope you enjoy this one, xx

cw: drugs

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Present/A Friend**

Time had seemed to lose its meaning after the funeral for Titus. Minutes had begun blurring into hours, hours into days. Damian had managed to cut down his shifts at the library—he'd terminated his volunteering at the animal shelter, a decision he considered to make more sense than much else occurring in his life. Everything seemed to be at a standstill, where he went about everyday activities with automation and his mind anywhere except the present. He could hardly remember the times at which he ate, how he ended up from his room to the shower, why he awoke at seemingly random moments during the night. Any sense of normality and routine had disappeared, all of it replaced by cyclical bouts of painful reminders and numbness.

Only a few things were keeping him grounded and sane, including his family treating him as normally as they could... because they knew he nearly despised being handled like he was fragile or damaged. Dick, of course, was regardless acting much kinder than usual and checking in with him more often, but Damian couldn't find it in himself to be pessimistic about it, not when he was already weighed down with negativity. Even when he could feel the sympathetic gazes his older brother or Alfred were giving his back when they thought he wasn't looking, the young man had no inclination to complain.

Jess had caught on to his coping method as well. Whenever he'd suggested an activity that was "normal," she didn't protest or attempt to question him. (She'd continued making time for them among a busier schedule with her tutor—the teen had decided she would take up the opportunity to catch up on her education—and new job, a gesture he had never explicitly asked for but appreciated nonetheless.) He still rolled his eyes at her, she still poked fun at him and cracked witty jokes, and they continued on as if nothing tragic had happened.

Except Damian knew they both were thinking about it despite how hard he tried to conceal his pain with scowls and practiced, controlled expressions. He could feel how her hazel eyes lingered on him for a moment longer when he broke eye contact, perhaps wondering if he was going to break down at any moment. Her smiles and grins were genuine but careful, like she was unsure if such a positive gesture was inappropriate.

But nothing about the way she did these things made him feel weak or emotionally insecure. No, Damian felt more as if she merely... _saw_ him, yet without judgment or pity.

It was odd, particularly because he could only count on one hand the number of people who'd managed to treat him in this way.

"Is it too late to change my mind?"

The two of them were standing at the door that led into the manor's expansive, well-lit garage, finally having time to do the lessons Damian had offered to give her. He glanced over at her with a brow that was slightly raised, catching the wide-eyed expression on her face as she took in the row of vehicles that, collectively, held a seven-digit dollar value.

"And why would you do that?" he inquired.

"I was just joking," Jess dismissed with a light scoff. "… Kinda."

Sweeping his gaze over the shiny bodies before landing it back on her, Damian said, "Well? Which one?"

Her eyes seemed to bug out when she realized what he was asking, making the corner of his mouth lift in amusement. She was speechless for a moment as her gaze bounced from vehicle to vehicle, and Damian assumed she was trying to determine their worth.

"Uh... which one is the least expensive?"

Nearly an hour, a few slammed brakes, many scoldings, and several "I did exactly as you said"s later, they were in a nearly-empty parking lot in one of Gotham's business districts, sitting in the black Audi. Jess was still in the driver's seat, having driven around in the side streets nearby per Damian's instruction and come back to the lot after they'd both decided to call it a day. In spite of his initial hesitation, her driving skill was not awful, but it was clear she hadn't been behind a wheel in a few years.

"I would ask you how I did, but I don't think my ego could take it."

Her tone was good-natured, but he had a feeling there was some truth behind her words, and he certainly couldn't blame her. At this point in their friendship, she knew his bluntness and honesty well, traits that not many people had been receptive to.

"You need to work on how quickly and slowly you work the gas and brake pedals," he informed her, "but otherwise, you did fine."

"Really?" She turned to him with an astonished look, then narrowed her gaze in feign suspicion. "Is there anything I actually did pretty well?"

A moment of silence passed as Damian considered her question, then: "You wore your seatbelt unlike some idiots."

The blue-haired teen snorted. "Gee, thanks. I feel so accomplished."

A specific thought had been lingering in the back of his mind all day, and while it had been shelved during their informal driving lesson, it was returning now, poking its head through the front of his consciousness as if trying to get his attention. With it came a mix of emotions, ones that he wasn't quite used to experiencing, and he could already feel himself slipping into them as they sat there in the car.

It must've been something like anxiety or nervousness vibrating his nerves and humming in his stomach, distracting him from whatever Jess was saying as he looked at her. Yet he wasn't seeing her as she was currently and at that moment; he was seeing her face as she glanced up at him with tears in her eyes, he was feeling the ghostly memory of her arms around his body.

"Dami?"

He was brought back to the present, eyes meeting hers at the call of his name, though he was sure she'd already said it at least once before then. He was too distracted even to snap at her for using his nickname (that she'd obviously picked up from Dick).

Her hazel gaze was trained steadily on him, that previous lighthearted and joking manner nearly gone as she peered at him with patience.

"I have something for you."

Thin brows rose at his words that were seemingly out-of-the-blue. "You do?"

Without a word, Damian turned to the backseat and retrieved a box that had been tucked behind the driver's seat, unbeknownst to Jess. The weighty package was wrapped immaculately in light blue paper. Curiosity and bewilderment fell across her face upon seeing it as he handed it to her.

"What is it?"

"Why would you ask that when you can open it and find out?"

She tossed him a mild glare, but then she adjusted the seat to scoot back for more room. Her fingers found the taped ends and pulled at the paper, revealing a box that hadn't been opened, a logo peeking out from underneath. Damian heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the realization of what it was as it passed through her mind.

"Damian, you—"

"Don't say anything until you've fully opened it."

Now her hands seemed to be shaking ever so slightly as she continued pulling the wrapping off and proceeded to lift the lid of the box. A pair of brand new, white ice skates sat before her, tucked among bunches of tissue paper that were arranged around them for packing. Several long moments passed, silence thick in the air between them.

Jess, who'd been staring down at them, glanced up at him, eyes glistening. She remained silent, possibly too afraid to speak or unsure of what to say.

"I wanted to thank you," he told her quietly, "for... being there for me."

Her chin appeared to tremble as she bit her lip and looked down at the skates again. "Damian..." she attempted once more, a tear spilling down her cheek. Apparently his name was all she could say.

She inhaled deeply before giving a sharp exhale, and he watched as she swiped her fingers underneath her eyes. "Dammit," Jess muttered, continuing to dab at them with the sleeve of her shirt.

He waited calmly and patiently, heart thumping a bit harder than usual within his chest. Although he wasn't entirely sure why, a small part of him had been anxious about how she would react. From what he knew, it'd been years since she'd been on an ice rink, much like other habitual, normal things in her life before the car accident. When considering how to repay her, he'd remembered that she had mentioned growing up figure skating and how she missed it. So, purchasing the pair of skates seemed to be a logical and appropriate way to thank her.

But had he miscalculated this decision?

"Why?" she sniffed, glancing at him as another tear escape from the corner of her eye.

"Because I wanted to thank you—"

"No, I mean, why did you decide to get me skates?" She shrugged, sniffling again. "Not that you had to get me anything at all—you really didn't—but you could've bought me food or something. Why skates?"

Her nose was flushing pink now as she regained her bearings, Damian reading the emotions overwhelming her body. Truthfully, he hadn't expected tears to be part of her response to his gift, but that didn't mean he couldn't see why her reaction was emotional; clearly the skates were deeply rooted in her past and the life she used to live.

He responded, "You said it's one of the few things you miss most about home, something you haven't done in a long time. So I thought… you'd like to get back into it."

Hazel eyes were rimmed with red and wet eyelashes as they stared at him in disbelief. Jess shook her head then, looking down at the skates in her lap and wiping at her face once again. "I can't believe you really got these for me..." she nearly whispered as she ran her fingers across them. With another deep breath and shake of her head, she added, "I can't take these, Damian."

"Yes, you can." He gave her a leveled gaze that was hard with determination. He would not be taking 'no' for an answer. "I want you to have them." A pause, then, "You deserve them."

More tears were spilling now, and Damian couldn't help feeling a little stunned while he watched her turn her gaze away, wiping at them.

_Why is it so difficult for you to accept this?_

"Thank you," she finally said, voice trembling as the corner of her mouth lifted in a crooked smile. "But I was just doing what friends should do. I... I know you would've done the same for me."

Silence followed as she proceeded to examine the skates, Damian turning her words over in his mind from the passenger seat. "_I know you would've done the same for me."_ He would have, wouldn't he? He wanted to believe he would have offered comfort and care for someone else who suffered a loss, yet at the same time, there weren't many people in his life that weren't family who might have been that specific someone else.

But despite how he'd felt about Jess before and at the beginning of their unexpected friendship, Damian was fairly confident he would console her the way she did him... at least, he would now that he'd experienced what it was like, how it felt for someone to be there without giving too much or too little. The entire situation had certainly brought them closer, he figured, especially since they'd both seen a side of the other that they hadn't before.

She'd seen him vulnerable, which made her the first person to have seen him in such a rare position in quite a long time.

"Did I get the right size?"

With a quick check of the boot's inside, Jess gave him an approving look. Her eyes were still slightly red, but she was no longer shedding tears. "You did. How'd you know?"

Damian gave a casual shrug. "I checked your shoes the other day when you weren't looking."

"Mm. That's sneaky of you."

"The other half of the gift is ten minutes away."

Her brows rose as she split a glance between the skates and him. "There's more?"

"Of course."

He then demanded that they switch seats so he could drive, and Jess obeyed without question. The box of skates sat in the backseat as they traveled through the business district and approached a large building with a lot that was empty save for a few vehicles. Halfway there, he'd instructed her to wear a blindfold that'd been sitting in the glove compartment—this she _did_ question before complying, not to his surprise.

With her fingers wrapped around his upper arm as he led her towards the building, its logo on a large slab of concrete to their right, Damian held the box in his other arm and verbally guided her up the stairs. They made it through the double doors, where chilled air met their skin and Jess tilted her head in curiosity.

"I don't really hear anything…" she mused from his side. He continued leading her towards the box office that was up ahead, a middle-aged woman waiting behind the glass with a knowing smile.

"You aren't supposed to."

"Hmph."

"Mr. Wayne," the woman greeted, her eyes flickering between Damian and the blindfolded teenager beside him.

He simply gave her a nod.

"It's all yours."

At that, he took Jess's elbow and pulled her in the direction towards the hall ahead of him, watching as she comically swiveled her head back and forth. "Wait. Who was that? And why did she call you 'Mr.' Wayne?"

Damian rolled his eyes though she couldn't see him. "You're asking too many questions. This is supposed to be a surprise, Jessica."

They were in floor seating now, and he decided he could make the grand reveal—she was already becoming too antsy for him to handle, a behavior that had always made him reluctant to do these kinds of gifts for people. Patience truly was a virtue that not many had.

"I don't think answering those questions would've given away—"

He swiftly pulled the blindfold from around her head, slightly ruffling her hair underneath and hearing the abrupt way she cut off. Watching her reaction, he saw how her mouth fell open, eyes widening as they took in the large ice rink before them. They were alone in the entire arena, not a soul in any of the thousands of seats or on the ice, exactly the way he had wanted it to be. Bright white lights and a blank jumbotron hung from the high ceiling.

Neither of them spoke for several long moments, making even Damian wonder if the sight had really rendered his friend speechless. She appeared to be processing it still, gaze roaming around, though mostly on the rink itself. _What are you thinking?_ Then Jess looked up at him, her hazel irises swimming in tears again, her bottom lip trembling into a frown.

Huffing a sigh, she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and leaned into him, the side of her head resting against his chest. Still holding the box of skates in one arm, he attempted to wrap the other across her back to offer a slightly awkward hug, but then she was already stepping back and lightly shoving him with one hand. Brows knitting together, Damian watched her cross her arms, trying to glare at him through her tears.

"What was that for?"

"For… making me cry." Her eyes gravitated towards the rink before landing back upon him as she gestured with one hand. "And for doing all of this." With a sniffle, she added, "I mean, it was already too much that you got me the skates. You didn't have to bring me here, too."

"I wasn't going to buy you ice skates and not take you somewhere to use them." Looking her up and down, he held out the box towards her.

She stared at it momentarily before taking it and going over to the nearest seat, sitting down and opening it to merely gaze at the skates themselves. Damian, who was standing with his arms crossed, sensed her hesitation; he could see it in the way she was chewing at the inside of her cheek and seemingly contemplating the gift before her.

Something must have clicked though—now she was putting them on, lacing them up and adjusting the fit with ease that he knew came from years of the sport. Her hands reached up to tie back her hair, and then she took a deep breath, standing from the seat, the guards still on the blades at her feet. Damian saw the anxiety in the hazel eyes that met his, and he found himself reaching a hand out to her. Without hesitation, Jess took it, walking carefully with him towards the edge of the rink. The chill from the ice's proximity fell across his exposed skin, a stark contrast to the warm, slightly clammy hand clasping his.

At the entry door, she steadied herself at the wall and removed the guards, then looked out at the bright ice, her shoulders rising and falling in visible nervousness. "Damian?" she said, not looking at him.

"Yes?"

"Why aren't you skating with me?"

"This is for you, not me."

"Do you even know how?"

"No. But I'm a quick study."

"So you brought me here just to watch me fall on my ass?" The lilt in her voice was playful as she glanced over at him, but the apprehension was written plainly on her features.

He raised a single brow. "I won't laugh if that is what concerns you."

"It'd be just my luck if me eating shit is what gets you to laugh."

"Are you going to continue stalling?"

"I'm not stalling." The look he gave her had Jess tearing her guilty gaze away, voice quieting as she said, "It's... been a long time."

Despite her ability to joke around, Damian had learned it was merely how she beat around the bush or attempted to lighten her own anxiety and stress. He'd already seen it in the wittiness she'd displayed that day they had run an errand for Matthew and gone to eat lunch at one of Dick's favorite restaurants. Yet today, there was a longing that accompanied the uneasiness in her gaze as they stood there at the edge of the rink.

Keeping his tone even and calm, he said, "Take your time. We have the rink to ourselves for the entire day."

Jess's brows shot up then fell as realization took over her face. "Now I see why she called you 'Mr. Wayne'…"

Damian remained silent, and she must have taken that as impatience because she was stepping onto the rink, her blades making audible scrapes against the ice as she moved around a few inches. Her eyes briefly met his, warm hazel holding emerald greens that seemed to glitter with encouragement while he remained in place, a silent show of not going anywhere. Turning back around, Jess trained her stare on the ice before her, pushing off with one foot and then the other, skating several yards in a slow but steady manner.

Admittedly, he knew little about figure skating besides what he had seen on TV or the internet, so perhaps it was his own mind seeing the tension that was dissipating from her body as she seemed to fall back into the familiar motions, gaining speed across the ice and moving left and right in a natural sway. In fact, Damian did not know what to expect at all—he had never seen how Jess skated, never gone out of his way to look her up and find old videos (something his father had likely done when they'd worked on the case), so he looked on with a curious gaze, watching his friend glide this way and that, performing what he assumed were basic motions to warm up. He could only imagine it was, as they said, like riding a bike, never losing the skills to stay upright on two feet on ice.

But she wasn't just on both feet anymore; some time later, she'd mustered up the courage to attempt moves seemingly more complicated, jumping off the ice and extending her arms in movements he didn't understand. When she came back around the rink towards him, Jess was skating backwards and leaning into a spin, blue strands twirling with her. The spin was relatively slow, but when she came out of it, she held her arms out to the side with a concentrated look on her face as if it had thrown her off.

Another attempt at a different kind of spin, one that was faster, in the air and with more rotations… and then when her blade hit the ice, she lost footing and fell backwards, making Damian un-cross his arms and instinctively step once in her direction.

But Jess, as she sat there, glanced over and tossed him a sheepish look, calling out, "I'm good!" with a dismissive hand wave.

Relaxing, he crossed his arms again and watched as she got up, dusted herself off, and continued on with her various spins and twirls, gliding back and forth across the ice in a manner that was evidently natural to her in the same way flips and leaps were to Dick.

From where he stood, Damian could see the hint of the smile that remained on her face, even when she performed rocky tricks and moves that mostly resulted in more falls and stumbles. He didn't know what it was like for someone to quit a hobby they loved, particularly for reasons that were painful. He didn't know what it was like to come back to it after an extended period of time... but watching her made him feel as if he was getting a taste of the experience in every lyrical motion, every occasional glance she gave in his direction—as if she were making sure he was still there.

For what was possibly the very first time since he had met her that night she'd healed him as Robin, Damian realized she was deserving of more things that made her smile the way she was. However much doubt he'd held about Jessica Fairchild had been burned away by the unexpected warmth she'd given him recently in a place that'd been metaphorically—but in his room, literally—too cold. Empty. It was unlike the flames of light his family brought into his life but similar to few others from his past.

Months ago, in his eyes, she'd simply been a culprit in a case, a troubled teenager who needed to be pay for her crimes. Her name had meant next to nothing while all he'd care about was taking her and her gang friends off Gotham's streets. It turned out she was something more dimensional—still as flawed as he'd initially seen her but in ways that were more dynamic than he'd thought possible.

Several weeks ago, Damian hadn't known what kind of person she was, not enough to put her in a category like he did with most people.

Today, he had a better idea: somehow she fit into that comfortable space between an acquaintance and family, where trust and contentment were flexible enough to strengthen or break what was forming between them. They were reaching uncharted territory, roads he'd traveled only a handful times before and made it through unscathed even less frequently.

She was a friend.

And the thought frightened him.

* * *

_He remembered._

The discovery had dawned on her when she'd opened the box, revealing the beautiful, brand new pair of skates that literally, for a second, taken her breath away. It had continued to sit there amidst her thoughts as she grew emotional, as he took her to the rink, as she stepped onto ice for the first time in years.

He'd remembered that she'd told him figure skating and hockey had been her favorite sports growing up… and that she'd quit both immediately after the car accident and hung up both pairs of skates. They were both probably sitting in a box somewhere at her aunt's, not knowing when she'd pick them up again just like she hadn't known either.

Until today.

As if it hadn't been enough that Bruce had insisted she was allowed to mourn Titus and be at the manor for Damian when he needed support. At one point, she'd wondered if she would have been able to do anything to help the furry companion... Granted she had never used her powers on animals, but what if? Had she missed the opportunity to save Damian from heartache? Was she even still capable of doing good by her hands and not harm?

Now her friend was trying to repay her and in a way that made her continue to feel unworthy and undeserving no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise. Not only had he decided to do something so grand and kind for her, but he'd also chosen something that really struck deep. She'd barely been able to handle _looking_ at ice skates... even as she skated across the rink, basking once again in the feeling of gliding with speed and the ice under her feet—the skater in her was vaguely scolding her for not stretching beforehand, but hey, she was too emotional to make smart decisions—experiencing the familiar swings in momentum that either sent her falling or completing a particular move, Jess could still feel the hurt that came with it all.

Nostalgia tugged at every corner of her brain, reminding her of old routines, occasional injuries, sounds of a cheering crowd, and most painfully, faces of her two biggest supporters in the seats. Her favorite thing had always been how loose and free it was, drifting smoothly back and forth on the rink or a frozen pond, the breeze in her hair and on her face. Something about dancing across the ice and moving at a pace faster than she could run was so… _liberating_. But presently, every time her gaze flickered shortly towards her one-man audience, it sent ache through her bones, pain that was almost strong enough to fight the bliss she was being reminded of on ice.

After a successful attempt at another spin that didn't leave her as dizzy as the first one she'd tried, Jess looked over at Damian, who was still attentively watching, and she could've sworn she saw a momentary flash of her parents' figures in the seats rows behind him. They'd always watched with eagerness, with a fascination that even her friend seemed to hold in the usually-unimpressed stare of his.

The mirrored expressions between a world that no longer existed and this present one that she currently lived in was the last straw for her strength.

Unlike the two times earlier when Damian had revealed his surprises, the tears came hard and without warning. She could hardly see through them as she skated as quickly as she could back to the rink edge, suddenly unsteady on her feet. Almost slamming into the wall and barely making it into the entry door, Jess nearly lost her balance as she leaned forward to brace herself—but then a pair of strong arms were there, holding her upright as the strength left her legs. Somehow they were on the floor of the arena now, Damian's arms around her as she sobbed on her knees and leaned into his embrace.

The hole in her chest throbbed as the old memories taunted her, poking at the edges and bringing that familiar, dull pain.

But everything else about the moment wasn't the same as before. The way the tears flowed... it was free. Uncontrollable, yes, but it was _free._ As much as a tiny part of her didn't want to break down like this in front of him, all the pain she'd shoved down into the depths of her mind and chest was fighting its way to the surface. And instead of crying to herself alone, in her room back home, on a sidewalk outside of Central City, in a bathroom after a recurring nightmare, she was here... but not alone. Here, with someone who apparently actually gave a damn? Jess couldn't have stopped the cries if she'd tried; it felt like a long-overdue release that her heart and body had needed.

And without saying a single word, Damian was there, cradling her figure in his arms while she wept. It was her turn now, apparently, to need him despite not knowing she did at all. Out of all the things Jess had been convinced she wanted and needed, someone to lean on hadn't really been one of them. But somehow, it felt like he understood—at the very least, he was being patient. He was there. He was a friend... _her_ friend.

What had she done to deserve the chance to be close to someone again?

* * *

"I fucked up."

The cold bottle in her hand made a dull _clink_ as she set it on the table in front of her and stuck her hand in the bag of chips in her lap. Beside her on the couch, icy, grey eyes appraised her coolly.

"You're fucked up? Maybe a couple more of those and you will be."

She shook her head. "No, I said 'I fucked up.' But yes... that, too."

A kind, crooked smile sent flutters through her stomach, not mixing well with the alcohol settling in her system and the junk food they'd been plowing through for the last hour or so. It'd taken about one mixed drink and two malts to get her to his point, where her speech was just a little slurred and she couldn't move her gaze around the house as quickly as she normally could.

No matter though—she'd arrived with the intention of blocking out a majority of her senses and, most of all, the painful thoughts that had been haunting her recently, ones that weren't the usual voices accompanying her in her everyday life.

"Aren't we all?" Kade asked with a shrug before tipping his head back to empty the contents of his own bag of chips into his mouth. Reaching for the beer can next to her drink, he added, "What makes you think you fucked up?"

An exhausted sigh left her lips as she sat back in the chair, staring at the table before them, which was littered with snacks and drinks. The two of them alone had gone through this mess without Misty, who had been unable to join the little gathering at Kade's home, and though Jess had felt slightly weird about hanging out without her around, she'd found she was warming up to him on her own. (Misty hadn't failed to remind Jess to lighten up on the drinks, and the teen knew it'd come from a good place—breaking the facility's curfew had already been one thing, disappearing from the party on her own that night had been another. Her roommate had kindly covered for her, making Jess indebted to the other teen.)

Unlike Misty, who was a bit more boisterous and outspoken, the tall, blond teen had an aura of relaxation and calmness as if nothing could faze him. He usually wore a casual smile, and when he wasn't, his eyes were evaluating people or surroundings with a look that was nonchalant. Something about being around him felt like standing on a beach with the wind blowing just enough to keep you cool. Maybe it was odd to have come to a conclusion like this so quickly about someone she'd practically just met, but there was no denying he'd left such an impression on her when they'd first met. Since then, Jess had simply felt like she could be around him with or without energy—he seemed to be that guy who was down to do anything, and if you presented him options, he wouldn't care for one or the other.

"It's hard to explain," she finally answered, taking up the bottle again. After taking a swig, she went on, "I don't know. I've just had a lot of shit happen lately, and I feel... I feel out of control. Like, I'm not supposed to be here, which could be a good or bad thing, but I can't do anything about it. Does that make sense?"

It hardly made any sense to her own ears, and she already wasn't very good with explaining herself in the first place.

Kade seemed to contemplate her words for a moment, and then he nodded. She could feel him watching her as she downed the rest of the drink, then slamming the bottle down harder than she'd meant. "What if I told you there was another way to deal with that, and it didn't involve alcohol?"

Brows raising in curiosity, she turned to him. "Yeah? What's that?"

"Give me a second," he told her with a quick grin before disappearing from the living room and reappearing with something in his hand.

He held up the small, clear baggie for her to see. At first glance, Jess thought the few ounces of tiny grains were salt, but another look showed the product was nearly clear and not white like she'd thought. (Her brain _was_ a little fuzzy.) In the light of the chandelier that hung above them, the granules seemed to sparkle and glint.

"Um… drugs?"

"Well…" he shrugged. "Recreational, yeah. It's called stardust.

"You can take this in a lot of ways: edibles, mix it into a drink, take it straight the way it is... It helps me relax and control my anxiety," he explained, dangling the baggie between his fingers with a slight smile. "All the other stuff doesn't do anything for me, so when I discovered this over a month ago, I was stoked. I think I'm on it almost 24/7."

Her hazel gaze was trained on the product, slightly wary but also intrigued. "So that's why you seem like you're always chill."

Kade chuckled then. "Pretty much. My brother usually bakes cupcakes with this in it when he has to study. I guess for him, it helps him concentrate."

"How do _you_ use it?"

"It's a little too strong for me to take it straight, so I usually sprinkle a little into a drink or on my food. Probably no more than half a teaspoon?"

The stardust continued twinkling—_Like stars... ha_, she thought—in the light, making it difficult for her to look away. It could've been her tipsy state, but the product looked too pretty to be a drug and at the same time, something in her was yearning to just stick her finger in it and put it on her tongue. Was it like those powder candies she used to eat as a kid? In fact, what did it even taste like?

She asked Kade this, and he set the baggie down on the table, gesturing towards it. "Honestly, it's a little bitter like those powder prescription pills, but it's not bad." His glacial stare rested on her. "You're welcome to try if you want. I've never tried it with alcohol or anything, but… I dunno, I don't see why it'd be a problem."

_Are there side effects?_ the small, sober part of her brain asked.

"Any side effects I should be scared of?"

He shrugged and sat back on the couch, clasping his hands behind his head. "I haven't personally experienced anything weird except the one time I accidentally added too much to my dinner and got _way_ too chilled out—I knocked out for, like, five hours." A grin pulled at his features while he looked over at her. "I've also never had a headache since I started. I used to get migraines a lot."

In spite of her questions, they were based less on her suspicion and more on curiosity. Part of her had already been sold minutes into his explanation, eager to experience this "relaxation" and lack of anxiety Kade seemed to operate on on a daily basis. Considering how easily he seemed to carry himself, it really did work for him, didn't it? Jess couldn't help wondering what it was like. Alcohol was already one way she'd been able to bury her thoughts and emotions, but it wasn't exactly pleasant and she wasn't a fan of the aftermath—_that_ particular night had been enough for her to better understand her limit, but going past it was really the only way she could drown out the pain.

"When you come down from it, it's really nothing." It was like he'd read her mind. "You just feel more... normal, I guess, with the rampant thoughts and all that. It's not like getting high or drunk where you have to deal with a headache and a hangover, withdrawals."

No more overthinking it. That was all she did, and that was exactly why she was even considering this at all.

She'd overthought Damian and Titus, she'd overthought his gift she didn't deserve, she was already overthinking her place in Gotham and what the hell she was doing here in this city. Images of saddened, green eyes and then hazel ones that looked a lot like her own blinked in her mind's eye.

_"You deserve them."_

He gave her too much damn credit.

After a silent moment, Jess reached for one of the soda cans on the table and opened it with a hiss, sliding it over to him. He raised his brows briefly before tossing her a smile and proceeding to tilt the baggie towards the can's opening. Kade did the same with his own drink, then held the can towards her as he adjusted his seated position and faced her.

"To being fucked up and out of control," he offered with another grin, cool eyes sparking with something like mischief.

Jess took her drink and toasted with him, making a dull clang as she tapped it against his, returning his smile.

_And to trying to embrace it._


	18. The Past, A Foe

_"My back is breaking_

_from taking all of this dead weight,_

_All give, no take…_

_If I'm being honest,_

_I can't take it over and over,_

_Dead weight hanging off of my shoulders"_

_~ Pvris, "Dead Weight"_

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Past/A Foe**

**4 months ago**

Patrick Dobra had lived comfortably in Gotham for over twenty years. He wasn't quite in the city's top ten percent of wealthiest residents, but the hundreds of thousands of dollars he made every year certainly served his taste for expensive living. An unmarried businessman in his mid-forties who knew how to work the economy, stocks, and numbers, he drove to his home near Gotham's outskirts from work every weekday at 4:30 p.m. and arrived nearly an hour later.

He'd spend an hour or so watching the news or on his computer, then he would move on to cooking dinner or ordering food delivery. While eating, Patrick sometimes returned to the television—one time, adult entertainment had been his choice of activity—before heading to bed by 9 p.m. His weekday routine was nothing special and only changed on Fridays when he went out to the bars for a few hours, usually heading home by 2 a.m. Other than that, his social life was practically nonexistent save for a phone call here and there to someone who was probably a family member.

Jess had wondered if their one week of recon was really enough to ensure that their mission would go through smoothly and no one would get caught, but she wasn't the expert anyway. Jax, in his unquestionable authority, had wanted his hands on the prized possessions in Dobra's personal hiding spot as soon as the gang felt like they had the man's routine down.

And so they'd made the plans, gathered the equipment, and carried it out.

One would think the plan involved breaking in while the man wasn't home… because wasn't that the easiest way to avoid capture? But no, Jess had quickly learned during the process that her newfound companions didn't always sneak around in the dark, stealing valuable items and passing them on to their anonymous fence. Frankly, one of the things that made them notorious was that they sometimes directly confronted their victims, particularly when there was a very specific reason for them taking the profitable painting, jewelry, or whatever it was.

"Dobra has undisclosed connections to some guys in Gotham's black market. Word is he's directly profited from illegal activity that got people killed, innocent family members of the criminals who are competition," Beth had told Jess. "So we're going to give him a taste of his own medicine, take what's his, sell to Phoenix, and hopefully send that message."

Despite the security system protecting his modern, three-story home with the small pool in the backyard, Jess had made it over the seven-foot wall with Beth and Wyatt, the three of them dressed in their usual black attire. The perfectly green lawn was lit in the darkness by outdoor lights, and the camera that was on this corner of the home had paint on its lens thanks to Ethan's quick use of their makeshift paintball gun. A little sneaking here and there in the chilly night that Jess could feel through her hooded sweatshirt, and they were slipping through the back door.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her hands were clammy. This was her first time that she was actually confronting someone with the gang—every other break-in and burglary had been under the radar, but ever since they'd discovered that she was a meta-human, the group had wanted to up the risks for a better reward.

Because now they had her and her powers.

_He won't know you're there_, she had to remind herself. _You'll be okay._

Just as they'd planned, the three masked figures made their way to the second floor, quietly navigating the brightly-lit home to the living room where Dobra was supposed to be at this time before heading to bed. Jess could hear a woman discussing the stock market as they pressed themselves against the wall, heading up the fancy wooden stairs. Rounding the corner, her attentive gaze landed on the back of the man's balding head as he sat on his couch.

Across from him was a large TV turned to a national news station. Beth, who was a few feet in front of Jess, turned to her and silently motioned for the teen to stay behind the standing table near them in the hallway, which was decorated with trinkets and photo frames. As Jess stepped towards it and crouched, Beth and Wyatt continued creeping closer to Dobra, their footsteps silent on the hardwood floors. The two of them wore identical ski masks that completely hid their hair and faces—and for good reason.

From her crouched position behind the table, Jess saw Beth's hand signal, the one that told her to begin her part of the mission, the only reason she was really there.

The teen took a deep breath then concentrated on making a connection with Dobra's body, feeling all the essential, working parts like his heart and blood pressure. Everything felt calm and relaxed in contrast to her own bodily system that was wrought with nervousness and anxiety. She found herself subconsciously lifting a hand a little, that dark and ghostly aura emanating from it as she searched what seemed like a healthy body for a part of him to grasp...

And she decided—quickly, considering the situation—on his respiratory system.

The oxygen was leaving Dobra's lungs at her command as she focused, eliciting a cough from him as he sat there, still watching the news. One more cough, then another, and another until he was wheezing, clearly having difficulty breathing. Both Beth and Wyatt were walking around the couch now, and Dobra's head snapped towards them in alarm.

"Who are you?!" he tried to demand as he scrambled to his feet. In a t-shirt and pajamas, the man couldn't stand for longer than a moment—he fell back onto the couch, bending over as he hacked a cough.

"Just some messengers," Wyatt casually responded. From where she hid, Jess watched as he grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, Dobra backing away to the other end of the couch with another cough.

Beside him, Beth was making her way across the living room and stopping at the edge of the thick rug at her feet. She bent down and lifted the corner, feeling around the wooden floor with her gloved hands.

She was already pulling up the false floorboard when Dobra attempted to stand again, Wyatt stepping between them though it was clear the man wouldn't have made it to her if he'd tried.

"What… what are you d-doing?" he wheezed, shoulders rising and falling with the immense effort it was taking to breathe evenly.

Her heart still racing in her chest, Jess was maintaining her concentration as best as she could, holding on to that connection to his body that she could feel in her mind.

"We're taking back what isn't yours and profiting off it like you did."

Wyatt's eyes, the only thing visible in the ski mask, flashed at Dobra as he stood still, arms crossed. Behind him, Beth was scooping out various items from the secret hiding spot, flashy pieces of jewelry, bundles of cash, and more, all things that he'd obviously been keeping hidden for a reason. It didn't take her long to shove everything into a small cloth bag, replacing the floorboard and rug soon after. Not having said a word the entire time, the woman walked away, back towards Jess and down the stairs.

Dobra's blood pressure was high and so was his heart rate, but Jess worked hard to distinguish his bodily functions from hers. Wyatt was bending down towards him then, saying something too quiet for her to hear before straightening up and walking away.

Instead of going straight to the staircase, he went over to her and said, "Give him something to remember this."

She wanted to ask him what he meant by that—this hadn't been discussed during the planning—but he was already skipping down the staircase, leaving her to look towards the back of Dobra's head and momentarily panic.

_What the hell does that even mean?_

Standing up as quietly as she could, Jess took a step towards the man, who was falling forward onto the floor in pain. Now she couldn't see him past the couch, but she still felt him, the way her power was continuing to prohibit any oxygen from reaching his lungs. With a final pull, like a yank on the connection if it'd been a string, she broke something. The teen had no idea what it was or how badly she did damage, but there was no denying that while she reeled that connection back, she could still feel it hurting Patrick Dobra.

With a final, wide-eyed glance in his direction and disconnecting herself from him, Jess followed after Wyatt, down to the first floor and out the door.

* * *

**Present day**

Unlike the first time she'd been here, she hadn't done a single day of recon. The decision had been pretty spontaneous, a burst of inspiration that she'd felt while laying back on Kade's couch, letting her hazy mind drift this way and that on a cloud of sparkling stardust and a fast food coma. Guilt, for many reasons, had been eating at her for a while now, and maybe it was the drug, maybe it was something else, but the realization that Patrick Dobra was still suffering from _her_ mistakes had jolted a determination in her.

She hadn't been able to save her parents, Titus, or do much good with her hands for that matter, so it made sense to try, right?

Kade had been right that the recreational drug could help ease the constant anxiety and self-doubt she walked around with. It'd been difficult to describe, but when Jess was under its influence, her mind was _clear_… Her thoughts slowed down, but they were minimal and not rampant or scattered. It was easier to laugh and smile at things without that stupid voice in the back of her head, the one that constantly planted seeds of doubt and questioning. And, like Kade's brother, Jess found that focusing on particular things was easier, too, which certainly helped during her tutoring sessions that had previously been frustrating. It'd taken her a few tries to figure out how much worked and when to use it though, especially since consuming too much tended to result either in grogginess or the complete opposite, a state in which she was slightly hyper and energetic.

Tonight, the dosage had been just right.

As she stood there outside Patrick Dobra's house, Jess stared intently at the wall before backing up several feet. Running towards it, she stuck her foot against the brick to launch herself up high enough to grab the edge and haul her body upward. She landed on the grass on the other side then straightened up, readjusting the hood over her head and the handkerchief that covered the bottom half of her face. (She'd tied her blue hair back into a tight ponytail and tucked it away, knowing it would be very bad if she was caught and described with it.)

It didn't take long making her way into the back door, just like she'd done last time with Wyatt and Beth, sneaking into the kitchen. Judging by the sneeze she heard upstairs and the lights that were on downstairs, the man was awake. Breathing evenly beneath the cloth covering her mouth, Jess crouched and snuck her way around the kitchen island, careful not to knock the stools that were pushed up against it.

_Now, is he going to come down here or should I go up there?_

She decided to wait a full minute, glancing down at the watch on her wrist every now and then and straining her ears. There was a faint sound of running water upstairs and a spitting sound—he had to have been brushing his teeth. Jess just needed to get close enough to feel him… Quickly, the teen headed towards the bottom of the stairs, about to sneak up them when she heard footsteps grow closer and hit the first steps mere feet above her.

Heart rate spiking, she backed up as quietly as possible but fast enough to turn the corner and press herself against the wall, just in time to see him walk past towards the kitchen. Knowing she was exposed in this position, especially if he turned around, Jess snuck back the exact way she'd come from, crouching in front of the stools. Dobra was opening the fridge now and pouring something into a glass—looking around, she saw the mirror that hung on the wall across the room from her, the man positioned perfectly in it.

She could see him and, unfortunately, he'd see her if he happened to look at it, too.

He appeared the same as before, balding and in pajamas, but… more tired. Coughing loudly, he reached for something on the counter, a distinctive orange bottle of medication. Popping off the cap, he tossed his head back with the pills and chased it with water. Something about the sight made Jess's stomach clench uncomfortably, but she knew that it was the reason she was there.

She didn't need to look at the bottle to know why he was taking the meds.

With another cough, Dobra shut off the kitchen lights and headed back upstairs, leaving her sitting in the darkness. Again, she made her way up the stairs after him, slowly and carefully in case he wanted to go back to the first floor. At the same time, Jess searched for him with her powers, feeling for the intangible essence that was his body, and once she nearly reached the top of the stairs, she felt it.

Everything felt normal… everything except something in his chest, his lungs, the very ones she'd inflicted harm upon. They felt weak and hoarse, like sandpaper in contrast to regular paper. Jess took a deep breath, inching across the floor in the hallway, where he was moving around in the bedroom ahead of her. His door was closed, and she hoped he wasn't going to open it, not while she was exposed in the hall with just another bedroom to dive into for cover.

Still crouching, she focused on that weakened part of him, urging it to mend and go back to being healthy, the way it was supposed to be. It'd been a while since she had healed anyone—Robin had been the last person—but it was coming easily as she remained still, brows creasing in concentration. The sandpaper was smoothening now, all the bumps and cracks disappearing from the surface and turning into a clean slate. Once it felt like there was nothing else that needed her attention in his system, Jess blew out a sigh of relief as she stood up and turned towards the stairs.

She heard the door opening behind her, and panic immediately replaced the short-lived satisfaction once she heard, "What the fuck?"

Jess bolted towards the stairs, hearing him yell after her as she practically jumped over the steps, trying not to collide with the walls. There was a sound of scrambling behind her when she reached the first floor, running towards the front door instead of the back where she'd entered.

Curse words were running through her mind, the teen sprinting across the lawn and Dobra still shouting after her. But she didn't dare look back, determined to make it to the wall that he may or may not hop over to continue the chase. Her jump over it wasn't as graceful as the first, causing her to land awkwardly on her foot and then wrist with sharp pains. But Jess got back up, ignoring the sprains or whatever it was she'd done, and took off running down the street until she knew she was out of sight.

Despite the throbbing in her wrist, how winded she was from the messy escape, and Dobra's obvious alarm, all she cared about was that she'd done it. That slight smile returned, the teen feeling proud of herself for the first time in a long, long time.

* * *

**5 years ago**

He knew they were there before he saw them.

The young hero stood on a rooftop in the middle of one of Gotham's largest apartment neighborhoods, having apprehended a few petty criminals in the streets below. A few blocks away, the flashing blue and red lights of GCPD vehicles were bright in the heavy darkness and against the building walls. He'd been contemplating which direction to head when he felt a presence, alerting him that he wasn't alone.

It was difficult to describe, how Robin knew when someone was approaching or nearby. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, his hearing seemed to heighten as did his general awareness of his surroundings. Tilting his head an inch to the side, not quite turning enough to look back behind him, the hero's suspicions were confirmed by the shape that moved barely in his line of vision.

But it wasn't one shape, it was many, enough to count on both gloved hands. To his highly-trained ears, the silent footsteps and movement told him there were at least seven of them, all identical if his assumption was correct.

"Who sent you this time?" he asked, voice loud and clear but calm despite the slight spike in his heart rate. "My grandfather or my mother?"

Just as expected, he received no reply. That was because, simply, there was only one answer to this situation.

His right hand hung at his side, just inches from the handle of his katana, fingers twitching briefly.

And the blindingly-fast moment he drew the blade, he heard them do the same.

Any normal person would have barely seen them in the darkness, unable to track the blurs that moved swiftly, their weapons piercing the night air and making audible clangs against his. But Damian Wayne, _Ibn al Xu'ffasch_, saw them all, knew and predicted their movements, their thoughts, their tactics. He dodged a blade a fraction of a second before the assassin even made the motion, leapt out of their way, dancing across Gotham's rooftops with them in the dead of night, for not the first time in his life. And one by one, his own katana met skin, slicing it open and earning cries of pain. One body was dropping, then two, three. He could smell the blood drifting into the air, mixing with the nearby fumes of the apartment buildings.

Launching himself off the chest of one of the last-standing assassins, Robin flipped mid-air, expertly drawing his blade at the masks that he briefly saw upside-down. They were already on the ground by the time he landed, and he was only mildly out of breath. Three of them were left now, poised yards away and ready to ambush him. Their eyes were visible in the dark, the street lights reflecting in the gazes of people who were strangers yet enemies.

Six more seconds passed, and three more bodies fell at the persecution of his katana. Standing there, catching his breath, Robin held his sword with an iron grip, eyes roaming over the lifeless bodies surrounding him on that rooftop. In spite of the cool breeze brushing against his warm, slightly sweaty skin, his blood was boiling and hot anger rolled off his body in waves. But like the controlled teen he was, he kept it all inside, buried deep enough that he didn't have to spare it another glance.

"What the hell happened?"

Bruce, who was still in his gear except for his mask, looked over the young man as he entered the cave, pulling off his gloves... gloves that were covered in blood. More of it was splattered in drops across his chest, his emblem. The katana was still tucked away in his belt, and Robin knew it was even bloodier.

"Damian," Bruce spoke again when his son didn't respond, stepping towards him. "What happened? Did someone get hurt?"

"No."

Damian removed his mask, tossing it without a second glance. Though his movements were careful and controlled, he was trembling inside, his mind elsewhere and not there in the present moment.

His father was standing before him now, within arm's length. Blue eyes looked him up and down with concern, but they only made him feel worse, like he was broken or fragile.

_I'm not fragile._

"Whose blood is this?"

"The League's," the teen responded coldly, unable to hide the tension in his voice.

Neither of them spoke, the silence weighing down on them as they stood there. Bruce was looking at him, but Damian refused to meet his eyes, staring instead at the symbol on his father's chest. It made the one on his own suit seem to burn, like it was trying to singe away the blood.

In a burst of frustration, he grabbed the part of his belt that held the katana and broke it, throwing the entire thing to the floor with a clatter. As a result, the blade slid a few inches out of the holster, revealing the half-dried blood that coated it. If Bruce Wayne gasped, he did at that moment, gaze landing on the sight and then flickering back up to his son. Still, he said nothing and neither did Damian, the air between them growing thicker by the second.

_I know you're appalled. Disgusted. Ashamed. Disappointed._

A part of him wanted to grab the "R" he wore boldly on his gear, rip it off and hurl it across the cave, but he fought that urge. Instead, Damian held his resentment within the fists balled at his sides, opening and closing them again and again.

Again and again, over and over, like the bodies that fell victim to his hands and his blade.

* * *

**Present day**

He'd been Robin for many years, surpassing all his brothers before him in the role. It'd never been a goal or something he explicitly aimed for; in fact, he hadn't ever considered that part when donning the gear for the first time. All he'd cared about was having a place at his father's side, in the family and out in the streets, earning a name for himself and proving that he was more than worthy of all their respect and high regard.

But years into the demanding role, Damian had still been consistently reminded that he came from two worlds, and that duality refused to let him find where he truly fit among them. He'd struggled to earn Bruce's trust as well as everyone else's, attempted to learn the differences between justice and vengeance, searched for a plausible road to redemption that atoned for his bloody sins. The young man had grown up a trained assassin, someone who knew how to kill a person in ways a child should never learn. Despite the bitter feelings he'd harbored for so long, Damian recognized it'd taken a lot of... _faith_ for his father, his family, to believe he could become a better person.

But had it all been worth it?

He stood in front of the display case that held his gear, the mask staring back at him. Arms crossed, Damian asked himself and the suit this very question, hoping for an answer. The golden "R" was only minimally scratched, crafted from an alloy that was resistant to shattering, just like most other parts of his equipment. It seemed to taunt him, reminding him of all the times it'd been covered in red, both literally and figuratively.

"Why do you dread wearing me every night?" the suit seemed to ask.

_I'm tired._

Damian was exhausted, to say the least. The beaten path he'd been treading had felt endless for years now, never-ending and even less rewarding than it used to be. Ironically, it was as if he were becoming more and more disconnected from the persona, its name, and what it stood for. Every day, Robin became more of a stranger.

"Is it because you're not good enough?" it went on.

"Not as patient and kind as Dick?

"Not as tough and resilient like Jason?

"Intelligent, made for the role like Tim?

_Is it because you are meant to be a weapon, a killer, and not a hero?_

Memories were resurfacing now, brief flashes of his family as they gathered in the manor for someone's birthday, a black and blue figure beside him as they scoured Gotham's night life, a playful shove at his shoulder accompanied by a blonde-haired grin. He heard a sharp laugh, followed by a string of expletives, then a snarky comment about his intelligence.

Then he saw green eyes that matched his, recalled a voice that told him he was the son of the demon, an heir, a legacy that was expected to uphold generations of global reform. He felt the warm blood on his hands after being put through one of their "tests," saw the beaten, wearied face that glared back at him in the mirror.

Robin had saved many innocent people in the years he'd stood by his fellow heroes' sides... but he had also killed many others, as Batman's protege, as Damian Wayne, as every name under the stars that he wore. And no matter how hard he tried to wear the symbol with pride, treading the path set for him with good intentions, atonement only felt as if it were moving further and further away.

Because it wasn't meant for him, was it?

_You were never supposed to be a hero or redeem yourself._

The glass shattered loudly and fell in shards at his feet. Damian's fist throbbed painfully as he breathed heavily, the adrenaline pumping through his veins at the sudden outburst. The cuts stung but were nothing compared to the pain eating him from the inside out as he stared at the suit, glare ablaze with indignation.

_Just admit it_, the suit told him... or was it his own conscience speaking?

_Admit that you were never going to be a real hero like they were._

He could only hear his own ragged breaths and thumping heartbeat as he leaned his forehead against the broken glass, fighting the urge to scream, cry, lash out more or all of it combined. Nearly ten years wearing these colors and the name "Robin," yet somehow it didn't feel like it was enough. Perhaps it would never be enough.

_Admit you don't want to be Robin anymore._

* * *

**Note: **was wondering how long i'd have to hold out revealing what's been bothering Damian since the beginning (specifically chapter 3) and i felt it was time to introduce that now. maybe some of you had already guessed it lol. it'll play an important, underlying role as we progress with DamiJess's relationship and of course, his relationship with his family.

thank you as always for the reviews, reads, follows, etc. :) happy saturday! (or whatever day it is wherever you are)


	19. Confessions

**Note: **this was kind of sloppily written so i apologize lol.

not gonna lie, i'm trying not to rush through these next few chapters but there's just so much future stuff i'm trying to get to xD it's at these moments i'm kicking myself for deciding this was going to be a slow-burn story LOL.

anyway. all i'll say is we're almost done with summer in this story's timeline, which signals a transition into more... ah, interesting things o.O

thank you all for the reviews, follows, and faves! xx

cw: death

* * *

_"All my skeletons out for the takin'_

_I don't even know if I'ma make it_

_I'm afraid of myself, and I hate it_

_All my skeletons out for the takin'_

_Somebody take them"_

_~ keshi, "skeletons"_

* * *

**Chapter 19: Confessions**

When he saw that both his father and Dick were in the large study, it felt even more than ever like he needed to confess his feelings... because not only did Damian need to tell Bruce, but he also knew his older brother had to know. It wouldn't have seemed right otherwise.

He'd been the first one to fill the role anyway, and to announce his desire to leave it meant Dick had to hear the decision.

After his unfortunate outburst last night, the teen had spent nearly every waking moment from then on reciting how he would approach the situation. It had been several weeks since he'd paid much attention to this part of his life that had bothered him for so long, but the pressure was becoming too high for him to keep his feelings bottled. Losing Titus had certainly made things significantly worse, pushing these thoughts and needs up to the surface. Though he wasn't fond of admitting it, Damian was losing his grip on himself and who he thought he was.

So who was he going to be after hanging up the suit?

They were discussing Tim's upcoming graduation when he arrived, Bruce saying something about having already scheduled time off for December as he sat behind his large desk. Dick was standing at one side of the room, arms crossed as he peered out the window at the bright though cloudy sky.

"Speaking of school, you ever decide if you're going to try out Gotham U, Damian?" Dick asked when he saw the teen enter the room, tossing him a curious look.

"I decided," Damian responded as he lingered at the door, splitting a glance between both men, "and my answer is no."

"Told you."

Bruce _almost_ rolled his eyes at Dick's words before meeting his youngest son's gaze. "That's fine, Damian. I wasn't expecting you to."

He could've made some kind of remark but his mind was elsewhere. Out of all the approaches he'd come up with the previous night, was the best way to bring up the subject that would yield desirable results? Both his father and brother seemed to be in relatively good moods despite today being Dick's last day in the city before he went back home.

That had been another obstacle. Damian was reluctant to unload such heavy news on the man with such poor timing, but he also knew that waiting any longer would only make things worse.

_Tell them._

"Well, I guess I can't really blame you let alone say anything," Dick was saying as he moved towards one of the chairs in front of Bruce's desk and sat down. "You know, considering I have less than a year of uni under my belt."

Bruce was chuckling then responding, but his words didn't make it to Damian's ears, not when his heart was beating hard within his chest and that voice in his head wouldn't stop urging him to speak up.

_Just say it._

'_I don't want to be Robin anymore.'_

A short burst of static interrupted them, followed by Alfred announcing via the intercom system that Selina had arrived.

'_I don't want to be Robin anymore.'_

The words were sitting in his mouth, forcing their way to the tip of his tongue. Damian looked first at Dick then his father, suddenly the most nervous and anxious he'd ever been in a very long time.

"Let's meet Selina downstairs," Bruce said, gesturing towards the door, and Damian felt his jaw clamp shut on the words that had been so close to leaving his mouth.

The next few minutes were a forgetful blur, Damian's mind clouded with his demanding conscience, hands growing slightly clammy with apprehension. He was barely present even as he distractedly greeted the short-haired woman and stood in the kitchen, off to the side, while his family chatted with Selina and Alfred continued on making dinner. He hardly spoke and joined in the conversation, which wasn't unusual for him in the first place, so no one batted an eye in his direction or noticed that he was lost in his own head.

Of course, that also meant not a single person mentioned his injury despite how visible his bandaged hand was at the dinner table, holding a fork, not when combat wounds were frequent for nearly everyone in the room. But Damian knew the significance of the cuts in his fingers and the bruises on his knuckles, and they only reminded him that he needed to be honest about his intentions. His hand seemed to burn with that reminder as the young man sat quietly at the table, not listening to the laughs and chatter around him.

'_I don't want to be Robin anymore.'_

"Damian?"

The call of his name pierced his heavy thoughts, making him look up from his plate to see four pairs of curious eyes on him. Had someone finally noticed his absent-minded behavior? A quick scan of their faces told him that they were waiting for something… An answer?

Now was his chance while he had their attention.

"I need to—"

"Did you hear Bruce?" Dick asked, and that was when Damian noticed the delight in his brother's eyes, excitement that lit his blue irises more than they usually were.

Damian's gaze flickered towards his father, whose face almost mirrored his oldest son's in joy. "We're getting married."

Beside him, Selina was smiling, and so was Alfred. Somehow, he'd missed the enthusiasm that was spread across his family's faces when he'd first looked up, but he could see it clearly now, an emotion that, for some reason, twisted his gut.

In spite of the last several years, and last few months, struggling to see eye to eye with his father, Damian wanted him to be happy. Furthermore, he'd learned to get along with Selina and set aside his initial judgment about her, all for the sake of trying to understand why she was good for Bruce and how she made him better. They still weren't close by any means, but Damian had accepted her and what she meant to his father.

And at that moment, with his confession on the tip of his tongue and this good news stirring much-needed happiness in the manor, Damian made a selfless decision, one that felt right… and wrong.

With a practiced smirk, he responded, "It's about time. You had me thinking _I_ would get married before you did."

And from that moment on, he was back at square one, withholding a secret that, until now, he hadn't had the courage to confess. Damian tucked it away again as he joined in on the impromptu celebration with his family at the table, watching as they toasted to the good news.

He couldn't reveal his feelings now. As much as it ached him and he wanted to tell them the truth, he had no desire to be the reason his father and brother stopped smiling at the recent announcement. His knuckles were throbbing, making him realize he'd been clenching his fist under the table. Flexing it open and closed a few times, Damian then glanced up at Dick, who was grinning at something Selina had said. Alfred was chuckling in that discreet way of his, and Bruce wore a look of admiration as he watched his now fiancee continue telling her story at his side.

No. Damian definitely couldn't do it now.

As if the reveal hadn't already been emotionally taxing, his father had stopped him on his way back upstairs to his room. The others were elsewhere in the manor, and Damian had felt his heart sink into his gut when he'd heard his name.

Yet he kept a controlled expression as Bruce approached him, an amiable look on his aging features. "I just wanted to say thank you for tonight."

"What did I do?" Damian inquired genuinely, brows raising slightly at the older man's words.

"I know it wasn't easy accepting our relationship," Bruce explained, looking away briefly before meeting his son's gaze again. "But you did. And your support tonight… it means a lot to me, Damian."

His chest tightened, and for a split second, he found it was hard to breathe. But despite how weak he felt now, Damian knew he was much stronger than that—he would not break the way he did when Titus had passed. He didn't want to.

"I want you to be happy, Father."

Perhaps the older Wayne could sense the tension in him, the exhaustion from not getting along with him for months. Could he also see that his son had been struggling with his identity for too long? Or was he going to succeed in hiding that for an even longer period of time? Damian saw how the patient, blue eyes were examining him, like his father somehow understood and realized that he was waving a white flag right then and there.

Damian was tired.

"And I'm sorry."

Bruce's gaze softened. "I know... I am, too."

His arms were around Damian then, catching the teen off-guard. The last time his father had embraced him was… he didn't know. It didn't quite feel like hugging Jess nor was it similar to Dick's casual hugs. No, it felt like Christmas mornings with all of his siblings present, like a rainy day in Gotham after a run-in with his mother. After months of tense dinners, thinly-veiled hostility, and nights spent patrolling alone, it felt like a truce he hadn't realized they'd needed, like he was getting back something he'd unknowingly lost.

It felt like having a father.

* * *

On this day, for two years in a row, Jess had been alone.

The first time was within the confines of white walls, the lingering stench of disinfectant, distant phone rings, bustling strangers in colored uniforms. A steady beeping, warm fingers brushing her skin here and there as they passed over tubes and needles, occasionally interrupted by a tentative voice asking about pain on a scale of 1 to 10.

She'd never known how to answer, so she always picked a random number, whatever would come out of her mouth. But even deep down under the weight of antibiotics, painkillers, and blankets, she had known a number assignment was meaningless, a definitive, narrow attempt to sum up the last 12 hours into a single digit... because the real answer was 10, multiplied over and over again until the universe ran out of space and time, unable to accurately reflect the true level of pain and suffering Jess had felt that night. It was more than a number, more than what her mind could process in the weeks, even months following, more than what any human being should have had to endure.

The second time, grief had accompanied her with a partner, one that called itself a reminder. Through the resurfacing of memories, lost voices and touches, Jess had relived the worst night of her life in the back of a public transportation bus, unseeing eyes turned out the window to pass over the city that had never looked the same since. The pain had returned, a ghost that made itself present after hanging behind her for 365 days, always there, always waiting for another time to step out from the shadows. The punch to the gut had been a harsh strike of reality, a remembrance that this hole in her chest was in fact _real_ and present and would probably never go away.

Maybe she had shed the same amount of tears, more or less, and maybe the pain had changed because the hole was just a half-healed wound reopening, pulsing with reminder... but when it all boiled down to it, the reality was still the same, the loss was still there.

This year was hardly an exception.

If there was anything about the city of Gotham that had begun to grow on her, it was the twisted beauty and personality that came to life, a sight that could only be seen from a high enough perch in the air. On the roof of some random building she'd chosen, blocks from the facility where Misty had been dead asleep before she'd snuck out, Jess sat with her feet propped up against the concrete edge that raised a few inches from the actual roof, arms resting across her knees. The sleeves of her hoodie were pulled over her hands, and the hood managed to shield the cool, light breeze blowing from behind her. Perhaps if it'd been blowing from another direction, it would dry the dampness on her cheeks that had been there for who knows how long as she stared into Gotham's bright skyline, wondering if she could count the lit windows of surrounding skyscrapers and towers. The city bustled with nightly noise below, sounding like a whole world away from the one she drowned in on that rooftop, reliving scenes that grew opaque beyond the living, breathing sight of Gotham before her.

_Her father's dark brown eyes had narrowed with annoyance in the rearview mirror at her, his irritated voice fighting for dominance with her mother's exasperated tone. A stubborn retort on Jess's end as she crossed her arms in defiance and slumped down further in the backseat, anger biting at her nerves and tightening her fists._

She couldn't even really remember why they'd been having that argument. Had it actually been over the out-of-state competition she wanted so badly to attend? They said that people tended to mis-remember certain memories, particularly when recalling them over and over again, and Jess had already done that too many times.

_Dad's head snapped over to look at Mom in response to something she said; Jess could see his knuckles at the wheel, white and gripping with tension in contrast to the redness tinging his neck and ears. Few things made him this upset_—

And whatever it'd been, it was just enough.

Enough to compel him to glare at her, his mouth moving in a rapid, frustrated manner, then give Jess the same look in the rearview mirror one more time. They said all it could take was two seconds.

Two seconds, enough to make a difference.

"I'm beginning to think you have a thing for rooftops."

She should have been surprised to see the young hero standing yards away to her right, his expression unreadable in the city lights as he appraised what was probably the pathetic-looking position she was in. But this marked just another time she was coming across Robin, for whatever reason the universe and whatever beings whose hands controlled chance and fate decided.

Wiping at the half-dried tears on her cheeks, Jess cast her gaze back out at the city before her. "I'm beginning to think it's more than just a coincidence we keep meeting like this."

Soft, slow, perhaps hesitant, footsteps alerted her to his approach as he neared her. A quick side glance told her he was only mere feet away, facing the same direction as she did, taking in the view.

"I'd say I spend more time on rooftops than you do," Robin mused, gaze trained on the flickering lights of the city he spent night after night protecting. "But you certainly spend more time on them than most civilians I've seen."

Her throat was still tight from the few tears she'd let spill previously, and the gaping hole in her chest ached away; Jess brought her knees closer and tightened her arms around them as if curling up more would temporarily seal it... as if she could keep herself from falling apart at the weak seams keeping her together.

Neither of them said a word for what felt like long minutes, the two of them absorbing Gotham's enormous canvas of glittering lights and dark, looming skies. His presence didn't startle her nor did it really bother her... she could have asked why he was there, but at the moment, Jess didn't care. They were just ants, small beings on a rooftop, gazing into a city that was laced with crime, pain, and longing under the facade of dancing colors and false pretenses.

Kind of like her.

Jess was nothing like the young, masked hero beside her—they were from lives and worlds set so far apart—yet something about his uninvited company felt _okay_. She didn't know who he was or what he was like, and perhaps that was what kept her from finding a way to continue being alone… So what? The company of a stranger felt less invasive than it was almost welcoming. Despite her lack of good judgment of character, there was little to no chance Robin had ill intent being there. Besides, she'd already spent so much time wallowing in painful remembrance while secluding herself from other people. Something about this change was, well, not quite _good_, but it was... different.

She would sit with this stranger whom she'd only met a few times and knew nothing about and who knew nothing of her.

Or did he?

The teen had no idea what it was like to be a vigilante, a hero, a caped crusader in a world that needed them. All things considered, Jess could safely assume the one standing next to her knew of her past, the events that had shaken her life upside down, the abilities she couldn't control, and the unfortunate path she'd treaded thereafter. Maybe he and Batman had a file on her, information that laid out everything about her in the click of a mouse or the tap of a keyboard…

But did they really _know?_

"_Ian!" her mother cried out, just a mere second after Jess met her father's hot glare in the rearview mirror._

He was a hero, which meant he'd seen things. He had to know.

"Have you ever watched someone die?"

Robin didn't move for a long moment, face still turned beyond the edge of the rooftop. His cape fluttered in the light wind, and from her position, Jess could see the complicated material of the gear he wore, the distinctive dark red and green that marked his identity.

"I have," he then said before looking down at her, eyes hidden by the grey-white pupils of his mask. He took a seat, still feet away, propping his arms across his knees the same way she did.

Something about the movement compelled her to go on, like he'd opened up the floor for her to speak her mind. Maybe it wasn't what he'd meant, but the urge in her chest was rising, spilling out of the hole she was doing a poor job of keeping together, almost begging to be let out after years of captivity.

"Two seconds." Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper—it was probably too low for him to hear. "Two seconds is all it takes for distracted driving to mean the difference between life and death."

_Her father's gaze broke from hers at his wife's outburst, turning back to the road ahead of him, but it was too late. There was a sharp turn of the wheel, a deafening screech of tires then crunching metal and broken glass as the world lurched and spun out of control._

"They said it was a moose..."

_Pain. Pain in her head... no, everywhere. It was everywhere, in her chest, her arms, her legs. Something warm and wet stuck to her forehead, where there was an odd pressure and sensation._

_Slowly opening her eyes, Jess first saw shattered glass and then that everything was upside down. Her hair was falling to the ceiling of the car, her seatbelt practically cutting into her hips as she hung the wrong way inside the vehicle. Ahead of her, brunette hair hung the same way, accompanied by bare arms that were limp and covered in red._

_Heart and head pounding, the teen looked around before unbuckling herself, falling painfully to the broken ceiling with a crunch of glass. Smoke was billowing from one side of the car as she carefully crawled out of the window, sucking in a breath at the uncomfortable sensations flooding her body. They had apparently ended up in the trees that lined the highway, having swung severely from the road. She was still disoriented while making her way on the scratchy grass to the passenger door, opening it with a metallic creak. Her mother's figure was limp as she hung upside down, the airbag half-deflated in her face. Jess attempted to call for her, reaching out._

_But she wasn't responding no matter how loudly her daughter cried or how hard she shook her arm. Even while she sat there on her knees, trembling fingers on Portia's bloody wrist to check not once but twice, hot tears running down her face, Jess kept trying._

_But her body was empty. Hastily making a connection to her mother, she couldn't feel a single part of her that was alive, not her heart, not her lungs, nothing. Everything about her essence, her being, felt like it'd faded from existence._

_Her father was the same way... almost. Unresponsive, limp, his favorite t-shirt covered in glittering glass and red, too much red._

_But he had a pulse. Barely._

_Jess's hands had never trembled so much before. She held them close to his body, trying, just trying so hard to mend something... anything. But everything was broken and weak. She could hardly feel his heartbeat, which was drowning in her own panicked heart and agonizing pain. Or was she feeling both their pain combined? The aura around her bloody hands was barely visible through blurry tears as she continued to push, looking desperately for a part of him that could be fixed._

_She didn't know how long she sat there, sitting on the grass, trying to save him, but the anguish and distress were far too strong. Jess couldn't compete with the overwhelming emotions and physical pain she was going through as she begged him not to leave her. It was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack, far worse than searching for a particular star in an entire solar system._

_Because the difference was that those minuscule things existed and could be found._

_And she couldn't find it. She couldn't find something to heal, not when it wasn't even there._

_So she lost her father, too._

The two of them sat quietly, side by side, as the warm tears spilled over her cheeks at the retelling of the worst night of her life. Jess stared out into the city, her fists balled within her sleeves. She had to force herself to take a deep breath, knowing she needed to get a grip.

"The thing is..." she continued, voice shaking, "it's not that I watched him die. It's that—"

Her throat closed tightly, cutting off her words as the memories went on replaying. But she had to say it. She had to say it out loud.

"It's that I felt it. I-I _felt_ it," Jess practically choked, her vision blurring so hard she couldn't make out a single thing.

_I felt him die._

All because of her powers.

_He died._

All because of her.

She was trying to breathe through the sobs that had surfaced, but her body was betraying her. Leaning her forehead on her knees, Jess wrapped her arms under her thighs and let it out.

However much long later, she then heard "Do you believe it was your fault?"

Lifting her head and wiping away at her face with her sleeves, Jess turned his question over in her head while she stared at her shoes. Did she think it was her fault? The cause of the crash had never really been on her mind as much as the fact that her father had died in front of her… no matter how hard she had tried to keep him alive.

"Which part?" she asked, voice trembling slightly.

"You tell me," was all the young hero said as he looked at her, expression unreadable behind the mask that covered half his face.

Jess gave a half-hearted shrug and took a moment to let the sobs subside so she could speak. "All I know is… I s-should've been able to help him," she explained quietly. "Maybe it's 'cause I'm not strong enough or I was panicking too much, but…"

Rubbing at her eyes once more, she added, "I guess all these powers are good for is hurting people, not healing them."

Memories flitted through her mind at that moment, ones of all the times she'd hurt someone, whether it was at the command of Jax and the gang or even in self-defense such as the day she'd woken in Jason's apartment. That was all she'd ever done, wasn't it? Inflict pain upon others. Losing her parents had defined her from that moment on, and look at where she was now, crying her eyes out in front of one of Gotham's saviors, a figure who was _good_ and fought crime and kept people safe.

"Even after that night you healed me," Robin suddenly said, "I thought you were only capable of hurting people in your path. But… it looks like you've been trying to atone for that."

She said nothing, feeling her chest tighten at his words. Somehow, him saying aloud that he'd also thought she was just a threat made her feel worse, like she deserved every horrible thing that'd happened to her over the years. It was like he'd just confirmed that she was a bad person who was unworthy of redemption.

"I don't know. Probation and community service feel pretty lenient for someone like me."

"And Patrick Dobra?"

Hazel eyes snapped onto him, widening a little at the name he'd spoken.

"How did you…?" Jess lifted a brow. "Never mind. I guess I shouldn't be surprised." With a deep breath, she crossed her legs and looked out over the city again, running her gaze over the twinkling lights. "So you've been keeping tabs on me ever since I turned myself in."

"Not particularly," he replied. "We check in on you sometimes." He then added, "I do think you're being hard on yourself. You've certainly changed my mind about you."

She remembered the night he'd visited her after the library mishap, how he'd said he didn't trust her but Batman had. Despite how little she knew anything of the hero, something about knowing he saw her differently now lifted weight off her shoulders.

Not that she should have cared what he thought… right?

"I… appreciate that." Considering her words carefully, Jess sniffled before looking over at him. "I just wish I could change my own mind." Geez, how did she manage to make herself sound more pathetic the more she talked like this?

A thought crossed her mind then, making her laugh a little, and she could see Robin glancing over at her in response.

"What?"

Shaking her head, she gave a humorless smile and explained, "I just… It's kind of funny, the fact that I'm sitting here talking to you about all this, bawling my eyes out in front of a stranger—no offense… But then again, you already pretty much know everything about me."

_He knows everything_ about _you… but he doesn't know_ you.

"There must be a reason then why you would tell me and not someone else."

"Well, I'm sure you can imagine there's a couple reasons why I wouldn't just tell anyone… even if I trust them."

She tilted her head in thought, eyes running over his gear and imagining what he possibly looked like without the heroic persona. What was he like as a regular person? Could she have crossed paths with him at one point in her few months living here? Had she once passed him on the street or been even within a few hundred feet?

"How do you know when you're ready to tell someone you're, you know, Robin? Assuming that you have."

He didn't respond for a long moment, facing out towards the city. Jess wondered if he would avoid the question, if it was too personal for him to answer.

"The last time I revealed my identity to someone close I cared about, she…" He paused, and she swore she saw his figure tense up from where she sat. "I haven't seen or heard from her since."

The way the tone in his voice changed told Jess she'd approached a sensitive subject, and a small part of her felt bad for asking him.

It also made her that much more apprehensive about her developing friendships with certain people.

Misty… well, Misty had made it easy for Jess to tell her the watered down truth about why she was in Gotham—everything except the fact that she was a meta-human who'd used her powers to hurt others as a runaway. The other teen had been open about her own issues, how her parents were in the middle of a divorce and while her older sister was trying to gain custody, she refused to be under the same roof as either her mother or father. And that was really the only reason she was Jess's roommate, not because she'd done anything to land herself there.

But Jess was hesitant to tell Damian for a reason she couldn't actually name. It wasn't because he was judgmental—sure, maybe he was a _little_ bit, but not in a way that was harsh and unnecessary—but she… didn't want him to think any less of her. Yeah, that was it, wasn't it? Despite how haughty and complicated he'd seemed at first, in just the short time they'd known each other, she'd found that she cared about what he thought. Damian seemed like the kind of person who held high standards when it came to most things, and the fact that he'd kept her around said more to her than she'd ever thought it would.

Especially for a girl who struggled to accept herself and what she'd been through, it somehow meant a lot to Jess that someone like Damian wanted to be her friend. And all she wanted was to be a good person, a good friend.

Whether or not she told him, whether she did it now or revealed the truth him later, would pretty much determine that.

"I guess I have this idea in my head that… maybe it's better to tell the truth even if it'll cost you," Jess confessed.

_Easier said than done, though._

She'd only ever had one friend back in Central City growing up that knew about her powers. The girl had been her best friend for years, but that friendship was long gone now that Jess had refused to go back to any part of the life she'd left behind. Even now, the teen wondered if she would ever out her secret despite having felt like her friend really had her back… because people changed and did 180s like that.

People like Beth and the others didn't have to tell her that.

"It depends," Robin answered simply, turning to face her. Though she couldn't see his eyes behind his mask—and probably never would—she could feel them on her. "What do you think it would cost you?"

There was a pause, and then: "A friend."

The air was quiet between them, interrupted only by faint sounds of traffic and Gotham's night life on the streets below. He didn't say anything and neither did Jess, something unnameable forming between the two while they sat there, holding on to secrets they wanted to share but couldn't.

Because neither of them believed they could afford the pain and loss it would bring.


	20. Careless

**Chapter 20: Careless**

He should have known there was a reason Jess had texted and called him a few times that night, but he hadn't realized it until he'd been halfway through his patrol shift, traveling through northern Gotham. There wasn't anything in particular that had jolted his memory, but seemingly out of nowhere, the young hero had suddenly remembered what day it was.

So he'd decided to find her.

It'd been an educated guess on his part that she would be spending some time outside of the facility and somewhere on a rooftop, mourning her parents alone. Damian had felt guilty for not seeing the reason behind her asking if he was busy but figured he could at least offer her company as Robin instead.

Who would have known he would witness her cry in front of him twice, let alone at all, in the time he'd known her? Certainly not him. When she'd broken down that day at the ice rink, he hadn't quite understood what hurt her; he'd assumed it had something to do with her past, likely her parents as well… yet now that the girl had confessed to him—Robin, rather—how she truly felt about their deaths, Damian felt like he'd gotten another deeper glimpse at her and what she thought of her past.

Jess was afraid of herself.

More specifically, she was afraid of her powers and what she could (and couldn't) do.

Initially, he hadn't been able to fathom why she was being so open about her feelings with Robin, but then it made sense. He might have felt a certain way before about her finally telling the truth about why she was in the city—he recalled the time he had tried to investigate her whereabouts, and Dick had convinced him to do otherwise—but now, Damian found he couldn't blame her. Clearly, there were more than enough reasons holding her back from telling anyone about her past... and they'd only known each other for a few months.

He wouldn't have been surprised if she went back to Central City without telling him anything at all.

She'd been relatively quiet when he'd picked her up from the restaurant at the end of her shift, and part of him had interpreted it as either having nothing to say or simply being worn out from her night spent crying.

Damian himself had been weary lately, also for too many reasons to count.

Still, he'd made the effort to suggest they hang out, in part to make up for not having been there for her last night. Whether or not he'd mention it was up in the air, but in the meantime, he wanted a good distraction from the other day's failed attempt at revealing to his family that he no longer wanted to be Robin.

They made their way to the kitchen, where they were going to spend some time making vegetarian pizza—rather, the older teen was going to do most of the work and she would help him. Damian still was particular about his cooking and only open to his friend offering _some_ assistance, mostly to benefit _her_ and teach her a few things. In fact, he found that he trusted her behind a wheel a little bit more than he did at a stove or with a sharp knife.

"How was your day at work?" he decided to ask, wanting to make sure any conversation was focused on her for as long as possible.

Jess shrugged as she donned the apron he'd handed her and strode towards the sink to wash her hands. "It was fine," she answered over the running water. "Someone got upset at me because I told her that we'd canceled her reservation after fifteen minutes of no one showing up. That was fun."

"Mm," he responded distractedly, quickly and swiftly pulling all the necessary ingredients and tools from various areas in the kitchen.

"What about you? What've you been up to since I saw you earlier this week?"

_Nearly disappointing my family._

Damian found himself shaking his head a little at his own mental response. It was a cynical but truthful one, wasn't it? A little melodramatic perhaps.

Part of him wanted to share it though, especially with someone who was at least good at listening or simply being there. Of course, Jess would never understand the half of it without important context unless he explained his entire upbringing and background... but even if he made it clear that he couldn't—wouldn't—tell her everything, she would be a hypocrite if she didn't respect his unwillingness to disclose his secrets.

That was what trust and patience was about, if he'd learned anything.

That and it still would take much more for him to say a word about his other identity.

He was lining up freshly-washed vegetables on the cutting board when she suddenly asked, "What happened to your hand?"

Widened, hazel eyes were drawn to the bandages around his knuckles, reminding him again about the other night. He hadn't really considered the fact that Jess was bound to notice, not when he'd known his own family would see it and likely not blink an eye.

But Jess, unlike everyone else, was not used to seeing him in less-than-perfect physical condition, and that was evident by the look of both concern and disbelief on her face.

'_I hurt my hand while moving furniture.'_

'_I was helping my father in the yard when...'_

'_Dick accidentally slammed the car door on my hand.'_

"I... lost control," Damian confessed, hesitation in his careful tone. "I was upset about something."

Jess was silent, her gaze flickering between his hand as he continued to chop the vegetables and his face even as he didn't look up from the cutting board. She didn't speak for so long, he wasn't quite sure she would at all.

He was contemplating changing the subject when she told him to stop.

Raising an inquisitive brow, Damian paused in his chopping motion and looked up at her. There was an unreadable expression on her face as she patted the stool next to her. When she saw the look he gave her, Jess rolled her eyes in a way that was almost annoyed before saying, "Damian. Sit next to me. Please."

Her voice. It was quiet and void of that usual playfulness it held, and that alone made him realize she was being unusually serious. So he set down the knife and rounded the kitchen island, wiping his hands on his apron before sitting as she'd requested.

Green eyes full of scrutiny and curiosity looked over her as she turned in her stool towards him, staring at his wounded hand. Jess seemed to be contemplating something, hard, because there was a wrinkle between her brows and a slight rise in her shoulders as she took a deep breath. Her eyes met his briefly before she reached out and took his bandaged hand in hers, which was trembling ever so slightly. Jess held her other hand above theirs, and that was when Damian realized with an ice cold shock what she was doing.

A voice in the back of his head was telling him to stop her, to keep her from making a possible mistake, but instead, the young man let her use her powers, staring at their hands.

That familiar, glimmering aura lit up the space between them. He could feel a faint sensation in the skin of his hand, in the spots where he'd bled from the glass and in his knuckles. It must've lasted seconds, but it felt like long moments as he watched the peculiar light, and then her trembling hand that had healed him was gently pulling away the bandage. He knew what to expect but was blown away nonetheless at the perfect skin underneath, not a sign of injury or even a scar in sight (except for the small one he'd gotten a few years ago at the base of his thumb).

Tearing his gaze away and looking up at her, Damian felt her remove her hands and place them in her lap. She wasn't meeting his eyes, her own turned down to his hands. Was she too afraid to look at him?

Suddenly aware of his heart thudding in his chest, he found his voice. "You have powers," he said evenly, almost quietly.

Hazel eyes met his, very briefly, before latching onto a place somewhere on his t-shirt. That slight, anxious wrinkle was persistent between her brows. "My parents and I found out when I was ten," she began.

"It was Valentine's Day. I bought my mom flowers with my dad, but we had gotten to the store too late, so all the half-dead, ugly ones were left. We got the best one we could find anyway. Later that night, during dinner, we had them on the table with us. I was looking at them, you know, just admiring the colors, smelling them." She paused, taking a deep breath through her nose, gaze still on his chest. "I remember that I was thinking and wishing they were more lively-looking. I wanted them to look less dead, less brown. Next thing I knew, when I was reaching out to touch them, my hand... it had that glow you saw.

"I've really only told one other person before, my old best friend from back in Central City. Maybe she's told other people now, I don't know. I kind of don't care. But..."

Damian remained silent, still watching her as she attempted to gather her thoughts and words. The unease was apparent in the way she was twisting the ring on her finger and continuing to avoid his gaze.

"I guess I'm just tired of not feeling like I can trust anyone, you know? I'm tired of keeping all this stuff to myself… Maybe it's a bad idea, maybe I'm being irresponsible telling you, but at this point, I feel like it doesn't matter. I do trust you. I don't know why, and I know it sounds super cheesy, but I do.

"And while I'm at it, I might as well tell you... I'm here on probation." Her voice cracked a little, prompting her to clear her throat before going on. "After my parents died, I ran away while living with my aunt—who really doesn't give a shit about me, honestly—a couple times. Then I ran away for good, spent—I don't know, less than a year?—on my own before getting caught up in the wrong crowd.

"I... I did a lot of bad things with them. I helped them... steal and hurt people, I—" Jess huffed a sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was silent, staring down at her hands. Then she spoke again.

"So now I'm here. I've been doing community service at the library—that's the favor I told you about. And the reason you've never seen where I live is because... I'm at a youth shelter facility. That's where I met Misty."

Damian certainly had never expected her to unload all of this on him anytime soon let alone all at once like this. He'd assumed she would take more time to open up, maybe weeks, even months. Perhaps she would have at least explained her probation but left out the part about her being a meta-human.

But to have essentially confessed everything he already knew about her? What had driven her to do so? It couldn't have truly been because she simply _trusted_ him... could it?

"I was afraid of what you'd think of me, honestly," she was saying, finally meeting his gaze. Hazel eyes were filled with anticipation and something like sadness. She tried to laugh, but it failed to alleviate her obvious discomfort. "You could hate meta-humans for all I know... but I figured, 'What the hell?' Worst case scenario is we stop being friends, and it wouldn't matter when I go back to Central City."

A long, long moment passed before she said, "Are you... going to say something?"

Her eyes were running over his figure, looking for a sign, a reaction.

Truthfully, he'd never considered how he would react to her finally opening up to him about her secrets. The only thing he'd known for sure was that he wouldn't tell her he had already known them all.

That was a given.

"I don't know if any of what I said even makes sense—"

"None of that changes what I think of you."

His words seemed to shift something in her. He saw it in the way her brows rose ever so slightly, how her eyes widened in surprise. Perhaps she'd been expecting him to say something more critical (because he was who he was), but it was the truth. He'd already started to see her differently after Titus's passing, in ways that contrasted what he'd initially thought of her. If anything, he found himself admiring her decision to be honest despite how new their friendship was and how she'd seemed so reluctant for them to grow closer.

"Really?"

"It makes sense, in fact. All the secrecy, why you never let me pick you up or drop you off at the facility, the day you were hungover."

"Yeah..." She looked away again. "I... feel bad for keeping all this from you. I mean, I just recently told Misty, but... you're different. I didn't want you to think any less of me."

Something about the way she said it sent a pang through him, and Damian found himself leaning a few inches to the side to catch her wandering gaze. When she finally met his eyes, he said, "I don't. Think less of you, that is."

She was smiling a little bit then, eyes lighting up with relief. "I don't think you know how much of a relief it is, telling the only friends I've had in years about all this…"

Then she added, "You're surprisingly… chill about this. I'm kind of impressed."

"Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"Well, I mean that you're usually blunt and, uh, kind of emotionless sometimes? I wasn't sure if you'd understand... Don't look at me like that. You know what I'm trying to say."

The two of them fell silent, the previous tension in the air dissipating as things seemed to go back to normal... a new normal, though. Damian could still detect some apprehension in her.

"There's something else on your mind," he said simply, earning a deep breath from her.

"I don't get how you read me so easily like that."

"Your face gives it away."

"Figured as much," she mumbled before continuing in a quieter voice, "I would've healed him, you know. I've never done it before, but I would have at least tried if I'd known..."

Knowing what she was referring to, Damian felt the hurt tugging at his heart, a pain that had just recently started dulling. The wound was still fresh though, and her words poked at it and made it throb.

"I know," he told her, looking away. "But I wouldn't have expected you to."

He wasn't sure he would have let her… even if there was a chance it would have worked.

_I've had enough experience with people trying to meddle with—or reversing—death._

"Damian?"

"Hm?"

"You're sure you're not... upset or anything?"

Damian examined her face, reading the worry in her eyes. Why did she care so much about what he thought and how he felt?

"I'm sure."

Hazel eyes landed on his newly-healed hand. "How does it feel?"

Opening and closing it, then holding it up between them, he shrugged. "Perfectly fine." Moving his gaze from his fingers to her, Damian added, "Thank you."

The ghost of a smile touched her lips then, and she responded, "Let's just not make it a habit, yeah?"

He merely nodded, but memories of the night he'd lashed out at the display case were replaying in his head.

_I'll make no promises._

"Why did you call me last night?"

The abrupt question seemed to catch her off-guard, making her meet his eyes for a split second before looking away.

"Last night was…" She gave a tired sigh, turning in her stool to rest her elbows on the kitchen island, shoulders slumped and gaze resting on the cool marble. "It's been two years since the car crash."

Admittedly, Damian was anticipating she would begin crying again, but he was reading exhaustion in her wistful figure. Perhaps she was tired of crying. "I'm sorry," he then told her.

"Don't be," Jess responded, glancing at him with more of a smile than before. "As painful as it was, it wasn't... as bad this year, I guess."

Hmm. That was intriguing to hear.

Instead of telling her to explain, he said nothing, giving her the chance to elaborate if she pleased. As often as he seemed to ask her questions, it appeared she wanted to discuss these things anyway, regardless of what he said or asked.

"I was alone when I woke up in the hospital, and I was alone last year on the first… 'anniversary,'" she said. Her brows were furrowed, and then her hazel eyes met his, something in them sparking. "But this time around, I don't feel as alone.

'Cause I've got you."

The atmosphere was quiet and serious again, but only for the briefest of moments, because she was reaching out to lightly punch his shoulder, a sly grin on her face. "How's that for corny?"

And then Jess stood from the stool and walked around the island, stopping in front of the cutting board with the vegetables. Damian was still processing what she had just said when the blue-haired teen reached for the knife.

"Do not touch that knife."

"I can cut them, can't I?"

"I would rather not have you bleeding out in our kitchen and take you to the hospital."

"Your lack of confidence in me is just a little bit insulting… But I guess this is a good time to tell you I can actually heal myself 'cause, you know, meta-human powers and all that."

"That doesn't make me any more willing to let you handle that 6-inch blade."

"But—"

"Jessica."

A sigh, then "Fine."

_'Cause I've got you._

* * *

She'd lost track of time again.

Misty had left Kade's house much earlier, and in hindsight, Jess should have gone with her. But the opportunity to play more video games, watch a movie, order pizza, and another supply of stardust had the blue-haired teen telling herself "just another hour or two."

It was shortly after eight now, and though that wasn't bedtime, it was close to the facility's curfew—plus, nightfall had already arrived. The sky was a dark shade of blue, stars faintly dotting its canvas and blanketing the city in a slight chill as Kade drove through the streets, Jess in the passenger seat. Both of them were in a haze of stardust, muscles relaxed and minds sharpened and focused. Jess was staring out the window, watching Gotham's streets pass by in bright lights that held her attention, making her vaguely make note of sitting on another rooftop sometime while on the recreational drug. That'd be pretty, wouldn't it?

"Is this the spot?"

Kade was pulling off to the side in front of the bookstore, the one that wasn't too far from the facility. A few pedestrians littered the sidewalks, but not nearly as many as there usually were during the day. They looked to be in a hurry, and Jess couldn't blame them.

"Yup," she told him, unbuckling her seatbelt and glancing over at him. "Thanks for the ride."

Despite the night and the warm, yellowish wash of street lights, his cool, grey eyes still seemed to pierce her as he tossed her a smile. "Anytime," he responded as he shifted the car into park. "Oh, before you go."

He twisted in his seat and reached for something in the backseat, the movement sending a whiff of aftershave and cologne in her direction. She couldn't quite describe the specific scents in it, not in the few seconds she could smell it, but it _definitely_ smelled good. Damn.

That was something else she'd noticed about being on stardust. Her senses seemed to heighten, especially smell and taste—not only was she able to concentrate better and take notice of details she usually wouldn't, but the teen could also experience things in a more receptive state. That was probably why they were always eating when they got together for their sessions.

Huh. That made a lot of sense now.

Having sat back in his seat, Kade was holding something out to her: another small baggie of the sparkling drug. "Your refill," he said, the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint grin.

Taking it from him, she thanked him and pocketed the baggie before reaching for the door handle. Right as she was about to pull it, she heard her name.

And as soon as she turned around to face him, his lips were suddenly on hers, startling her. Reflexively, Jess pulled her head back and watched as Kade did the same, his eyes wide at her reaction.

"I... sorry," he managed to say, lowering his hand that had been about to touch her face. "I thought... I mean, I wanted..."

She had no idea what he was trying to say, but in that fleeting moment, all she cared about was that he'd obviously done it for a specific reason, even if he was having trouble explaining it. All this time, Jess had never thought he'd ever be interested in her, and it had been an easy conclusion to accept. Sure, she still got those cliche butterflies in her stomach whenever he grinned at her, and sometimes she caught herself staring at his side profile or the shape of his forearms—a strange thing, but according to the internet, apparently she wasn't the only girl who did this?—but not once had she ever thought he'd see her as more than a casual friend.

Well, she must've been wrong then.

"Sorry," he said again, retreating further into his seat, embarrassment taking over his handsome features.

Heart galloping and body suddenly flooding with heat, Jess grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him towards her, initiating a second kiss. His cologne was stronger now, filling her nose, and she could faintly taste the beer on his lips as he seemed to recover from shock, leaning into the gesture with a hand behind her neck.

She'd always imagined her first kiss to happen in a variety of ways, but if anyone had ever told her it'd happen like this, in the guy's car, in the middle of Gotham, she probably would have just shaken her head. It sounded so textbook, so "teen romance novel," didn't it? But here she was, doing exactly that... while under the influence of a drug that only amplified her experience, everything she felt, tasted, smelled.

Something about the situation felt like a door being unlocked. No, it was more like taking a sledgehammer to the thick padlock that barred anyone and anything from entry. After everything that had happened in the last few weeks, particularly after finally opening up to and being honest with Damian, Jess found that she just wanted to stop being so... _careful._ It'd been a feeling that had surfaced even before her first party with Misty, but it was much more apparent now in the way she didn't care that Damian knew some of the most vulnerable parts of her, that she was kissing a guy who she'd known for... well, she didn't care about that either.

Maybe the street they were on was empty with no witnesses, maybe it wasn't, but any worry that she would've normally possessed was practically nonexistent as Jess let herself become consumed by this moment. She was almost breathless when they finally broke apart, his gaze seeming to keep her in place even if she tried to move. Heat was rising in her cheeks and she prayed that he wouldn't see it, but Kade was grinning then, his hand moving from her neck to her jaw and leaving a trail of warmth.

"I have to be honest," he said, his cool gaze landing on her mouth. "I've been wanting to do that for a while."

She realized then that she was still holding his jacket in an iron grip; Jess released it, a sheepish look on her face. "I never would have guessed," she admitted.

"Well, I tried pretty hard to make sure you didn't know." He removed his hand from her face, much to her disappointment. But his eyes were still roaming over her, making a peculiar tingling sensation run over her skin and down to the pit of her stomach. "Because honestly, I thought you were taken."

Jess couldn't help the baffled look that crossed her face, her nose scrunching in confusion. "_Really?_"

A laugh escaped from him. "Yeah, really. You mentioned someone named 'Damian' once or twice, so I asked Misty who he was. She said 'Damian Wayne,' so I thought, 'Well, there goes my chance. She's hanging out with _that_ Wayne guy.'"

"You thought... I was dating Damian. Wayne."

His dark brows rose for a brief moment before Kade chuckled again. _How is it possible for one to be so attractive just by existing?_

Jess mentally kicked herself then for sounding like such a hormonal teenage girl. _Get a damn grip, Jess._

"Well, yeah," he responded. "I mean, you can't blame me. The guy is really good-looking, I won't lie. And I've rarely seen him hang out with many people, let alone girls that weren't already his girlfriend, so..."

"Then how'd you find out we're just friends?"

"Misty figured out why I was curious. I don't think she got it when I first asked, but just randomly the other day, she brought it up and I told her that, you know, I thought you were cute."

Oh man.

If her body hadn't listened to her a few minutes ago when she felt the heat in her face, it certainly wasn't listening to her now. That heat was everywhere now, flushing her entire being with both flattery and embarrassment. And it didn't help that Kade was still looking at her that way, like he wanted to kiss her again.

Not like she'd stop him.

"Not sure why Wayne would pass up being more than friends with you, but hey, I'm not complaining," he then said with a shrug and a smile.

"Um, wow," was all Jess could manage to say as she processed this information.

Before she could even attempt to say anything useful, her phone buzzed in her pocket. A quick glance at it had her sighing a little—it'd been her nightly reminder that she had thirty minutes to get to the facility by curfew, one she'd set after the night she had gotten way too inebriated.

And her probation officer hadn't failed to scold her for the slip-up, emphasizing that even small mistakes like that could affect her probation terms.

"Shit. I have to go. Sorry."

"No need to apologize to me. I'm the one that kept you."

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda glad you did," she answered with a slight grin, feeling a little bolder than she had several minutes ago.

"Just 'kinda'?"

She didn't have a chance to answer because he was kissing her again—for the _third_ time, god—and this time, his hand had found her side, where the bottom half of her body was _bare_ and _exposed_ due to her crop top. Whether it was intentional, Jess's skin crawled with tingles where his fingers touched her, and she had to gather the courage to break the kiss and lean back, also breaking the contact with his hand.

"Maybe more than 'kinda,'" she replied breathlessly, eliciting another crooked grin from him.

Yep, she definitely needed to head out before she allowed herself to get too wrapped up in this newfound experience.

After finally bidding him goodbye, Jess headed down the sidewalk, speed-walking in the direction of the facility. Her mind was engulfed in the ever present shock and disbelief that Kade was somehow interested in her, so when the voice spoke from somewhere off to the side in an alleyway between two businesses, she almost paid it no attention.

"You're more careless than I thought."

Halting in her steps, Jess turned in the direction of the unknown speaker, heart jumping into her throat. She couldn't really see anyone outside of the nearby lamp post's light, which only made her much more apprehensive about who was talking to her in the dark on an empty Gotham street.

"And who would you be then?" she managed to ask, stepping backwards once as her hand itched reflexively at her side.

A figure stepped into the edge of the yellow light, and he wore a leather jacket along with a familiar red helmet that first made her breathe a sigh of relief and then almost roll her eyes. Admittedly, a small part of her had thought it was Robin, who she'd just seen the other night, but it was a different hero this time.

Unable to help herself, Jess crossed her arms and asked, "What's with you masked heroes and your dramatic entrances and exits?"

He'd caught on to the plural. "'Heroes,' huh? Who else have you been meeting up with that I don't know about?" Even though she couldn't see his face, the facetious tone of his voice—even in the slight robotic modulation his helmet was giving him—painted the picture for her. He was probably wearing that impish grin of his.

"Why are you following me?"

"Geez, always so straight-to-the-point and defensive. Must be the time you spent on the streets."

Great. Another hero who knew everything about her past. It'd been one thing for Batman and Robin to know, and at least _that_ made sense since they'd, well, hunted her down.

But Red Hood?

"I don't really think that's your business," Jess countered, looking him up and down. Her gaze lingered momentarily at the handguns on his waist.

"You're right. I don't really care about your history," he said with a shrug. "I'd be a hypocrite to say anything about it, really. But that thing you've got in your pocket there? That's my business."

Brows furrowing, she looked down at herself before glancing back up at him. Her phone? Her wallet? What was he referring to?

"What are you talking about?"

"Doll, don't do that with me. I can tell you're tweaking on it."

"I'm what?"

He heaved a sigh, which was kind of strange on his rough, slightly intimidating appearance. And then Red Hood was approaching her, making her want to move away though her feet felt rooted in place. His towering figure stopped within a yard of her, making her heart thump harder in her chest. Despite being convinced she wasn't afraid of him and even knowing what he looked like under the mask, there was still something about his heroic persona that made her breath catch in her throat.

"Your pupils are dilated, you've blinked almost twice as often as a sober person would within the last minute, your nose is wrinkling at the faint stench of the dumpsters at the back of the alley... _and_ I saw your little blond boyfriend hand the little bag to you, so..."

Cold realization washed over her followed by hot humiliation. _He saw us. He saw him kiss me._

"Oh, I stopped looking after the first time, don't worry," Red Hood was saying then, waving a hand at her and shaking his head. "I'm just really glad that was all you did because that would've been _really_ awkward—"

"Seriously. Why are you following me?"

"Because you're _high on stardust_, and you probably shouldn't be."

Raising a brow and standing her ground, she asked him why. Who was he to tell her what she could or couldn't do?

"You don't pay attention, do you? Someone's already ODed on the stuff. Got sent to the hospital and had to pump it out of his intestines and shit. Pretty sure he's around your age, too."

She couldn't lie... This was definitely news to her. Jess didn't know anyone else other than Kade and his brother who used it—Misty couldn't care less since she had the same attitude about it that she held for alcohol—so she certainly had no clue who he was talking about. But was it really something she had to fret over? Could it be that that specific instance was simply just a one-off?

"I'm careful," was all she said.

"I beg to differ, but I'm not here to argue with you on that. Why don't you tell me instead where your boyfriend gets his supply?"

"He's not—" Jess gave an exasperated sigh before making a dramatic shrug. "I don't know. He knows a lot of people. Could be anyone."

And that was true. Kade was like Misty; they knew a lot of people, still hung out with their classmates and friends, had those parties, somehow were always running into someone they knew when they were out in the city. Sometimes it made her feel left out, but then again, she was in _their _hometown, not hers.

"Mm," he said, crossing his arms and probably scrutinizing her from behind his helmet. "Yeah. That's not helpful at all."

"Why are you asking _me_ for information? Shouldn't you be able to figure this out on your own?"

He let out a sharp laugh. "I can, actually, but seeing that you happen to be tangled up in this stuff, too, I figured I could find out what you know. That and my methods don't exactly apply here, so I have to be... less violent." The hero seemed to shudder at the thought, making Jess raise a brow.

Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she said dryly, "You mean you can't grab one of us teenagers and beat us up for information."

"Hey! I'm not the only one who does that to people around here."

"Okay, well, I really don't know anything that could help you out. So if you don't mind, I'm going to be on my way _without _being followed..." Her foot moved in the direction of the facility, but the man seemed to ignore her implication.

"I'm surprised you're not wondering how I found you."

Well, she _was_ curious about that. However he'd discovered she used stardust and found her here was beyond her, yet there was no room to be shocked at this point. In fact, the teen was just getting used to it. It was strange to say it almost felt normal.

"I'm used to you guys doing that by now," Jess responded dully, glancing down the street to see if anyone was witnessing their encounter. They were surrounded still by quiet and lamp posts.

"There you go again with talking in plurals. Who else is wearing a mask and bothering you besides me?" She could practically hear the smirk in his voice again.

"Since you've been so kind about asking," she replied, sarcasm heavy in her tone, "I've run into Robin a few times."

There was the briefest pause, but she barely thought anything of it because Red Hood was then tilting his head curiously. "Is that right?"

"Yeah. So why don't you go bother him about stardust instead of me? I'm sure he'd be able to help you out."

He chuckled again, but this time, it sounded darker, rougher, sending a chill over her skin. _Weird._

"What?"

"See you around, doll," he was saying, taking a step backwards into the alley he'd appeared in. "And have your boyfriend walk you home next time. This is Gotham, after all."

With that, the red-masked hero was out of her sight, leaving the teen standing in an empty street with the bag of stardust burning a hole in her pocket.

* * *

**Note: **i'm sure some of you were eagerly awaiting Jason's reappearance, so here it is hehe. i'm really excited for what i have planned regarding him and Jess and how that will affect, well, other things and people. if we're being technical, it's another sideline story underway, so you'll certainly see more of him.

same goes for Kade. i know a few of you left reviews about him (and i TOTALLY get why) but his connection to Jess is obviously important for a reason i cannot say just yet!

also... SHE FINALLY TOLD HIM lol. i feel like Jess was just fed up with holding onto her secrets, and she's at a point where she thinks she can trust again (but she's well aware of the risks and potential consequences). now we just have to wait and see if that was a good decision on her part... o.O

thank you (y muchas gracias) for the reviews, follows, faves :) :)


	21. He'll Be Fine

**Chapter 21: He'll Be Fine**

"Thank you for accompanying me tonight."

The dark-haired man glanced over at the teen next to him as they entered the cave, having finished a night of patrol. Though wearing his suit was something he did less frequently as he'd gotten older, Dick hadn't wanted to pass up an opportunity to do it again with his little brother while he was visiting. They'd gone out several times over the last few weeks, sometimes with Bruce, too, and the experience had been nothing short of nostalgic for the former Robin. Besides, he'd missed patrol for a variety of reasons (ones that didn't include getting his ass kicked or things going awry, of course).

It never got old, watching the living, breathing life of the city at night whenever they stopped to take in the view from somewhere high up enough to let them look out over their home. Despite its flaws and the ugly pain it often brought, there was something hopeful about Gotham that he'd eventually learned to see, though it'd taken him quite a while to get to that point. That shred of positivity was somewhere under the layers of crime and desperation, and although it'd been hard to find at times, he'd managed to convince himself it existed. And in the line of work for heroes like, him, Damian, their father, and everyone else, holding such a perspective was often a feat in itself.

"Couldn't go back home without one more patrol with my favorite 'Lil D,'" he responded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a crooked grin as he reached up to remove his mask.

"Favorite? I'm the _only_ 'Little D,' Grayson."

"True, but still. If there were a million of you around, you in particular would still be my favorite."

"Tt. You would be driven insane if there were that many of me... Even I probably couldn't handle that." Damian was pulling off his gloves and mask, not a single visible scratch on him; their night had been relatively easy and quieter than usual.

Tilting his head side-to-side to work out built-up tension in his neck, Dick mused, "Wow. Never thought I'd hear you admit you'd get sick of yourself. You sure none of those petty criminals got a hit on your head tonight?"

Damian shook his head as he stripped down to his compression clothing. "If I didn't know any better, I would blame you for your wittiness rubbing off on Jessica."

"Yeah? Speaking of her, how've you guys been?"

This certainly wasn't the first time he'd asked about the teen's friendship with the girl, but the older man had found that he hadn't been this curious since...

Not that Dick had expected things to turn out the same—he really hoped they wouldn't and that this time, despite the circumstances, it'd be much better—but it was always intriguing seeing how their family's various relationships and friendships turned out when things got tricky because of their... well, other lives. Losing someone was always a possibility, and that had already happened for Damian. And now that Dick could see he'd become friends with someone again, he couldn't help but feel like he wanted to watch the friendship as it developed.

He also couldn't help holding his breath.

Damian seemed to be contemplating his answer, the look on his face thoughtful as he made his way to the bench nearby and sat down.

"She... surprised me the other day."

Jess had _surprised_ Damian Wayne? Well, that was something unheard of to Dick.

"She confessed everything to me," he continued, "after unexpectedly healing my hand."

"Everything as in...?"

"Everything as in having meta-human abilities, what she has done the past few years... I'd assumed she would explain her probation at best, but never did I expect her to come clean about... _all_ of it."

The cave was silent, Dick's gaze still on him as he processed this information. He definitely shared the awe that the girl had already confided so much in Damian—it'd only been, what, barely three months since they'd formally met?—yet he knew that sometimes people just felt that comfortable sooner than others did.

Though he'd gotten to know Jess over the last several weeks in the handful of times he'd hung around the two teens, he didn't know if that was just simply part of her nature.

"Well, maybe she's the kind of person who does that," he suggested.

"That's what I believe, too," Damian told him, a slight wrinkle between his brow like he was concentrating. "From the beginning, I had this idea that she trusts easily... perhaps too easily. That must be why she got tangled up with that gang, especially when they betrayed her at the last second.

"It's a little ironic, really. You'd think someone like her would be afraid to trust anyone after everything she's been through. Yet... she continues to surprise me and prove my assumptions wrong."

Dick tilted his head. "Isn't that what you wanted, though? For her to be open with you and tell you about herself?"

He still recalled that day he'd arrived in Gotham, how Damian had had his reservations about the girl as well as a hint of confusion about what she was really like. Now, it was clear the young man had developed a relationship with her that, in itself, was another reason to be baffled—because the Damian he'd spoken to earlier this summer probably would've scoffed at the idea that they'd become friends.

Beside him, Damian turned to him, green eyes clouded with heavy thoughts and a faraway look. "It is... but, at this point in our friendship, I can't help feeling her willingness to confide in me is... a mistake."

"How so?"

"Because I can't do the same."

Ah.

Confiding in people outside their family always had been and always would be a calculated risk, one that could make or break a relationship or, worse, put a life on the line. It had never been an easy thing to do, and Damian had already been through a "worst case scenario" when telling someone close to him about his Robin identity. So it was no shocker to Dick that the young man was set on never telling anyone again... at least, that's what it sounded like.

"You already know what I'd say to that, Damian."

"So don't say it."

Dick couldn't help smiling a little. "What would you _want_ me to say instead?"

A long pause, then: "I would have wanted you to say, during that conversation on the day you arrived, that I should have no interest in her. That I shouldn't bother."

The slight smile he'd been wearing faltered. Damian's voice had hardened in a way that was nothing but familiar to the older man's ears, but his sudden change in demeanor had caught him off guard.

_Do you regret becoming friends with her? Is that what you're saying?_

Instead of asking directly, he waited patiently, hoping Damian would go on.

"I'm..." The swallow that he made was visible in his throat and so was the hesitation and slight awkwardness in his figure, another sign that he was unsure of how to handle this honesty.

"I'm tired of losing people."

Something heavy filled Dick's chest then as he watched his little brother. Vulnerability had never been one of Damian's strongest characteristics; he'd always been so quick to throw up walls as high as they'd go to protect himself. Dick knew that somehow Jess had gotten through to him... and now he was afraid.

Well, maybe the teen hadn't quite admitted that outright, but Dick knew him well. He figured that, after the last person he'd gotten close to, Damian still wanted to play it safe and bury his heart so no one could get to it.

"You don't know that you'll lose her."

"It's inevitable, Dick," Damian responded, still not meeting his gaze as he stood from the bench and went to hang up his katana. "Frankly, the more I've spent time with her lately, the more I remember she is going back to Central City soon anyway..."

The uncertainty in his voice and posture would have been hard to see by someone else, but Dick spotted it.

"You know, you say all these things about how you wish you hadn't become friends with her... but you just said you're tired of losing people, Damian."

Sharp, green eyes snapped onto him. "What's your point?"

Dick held his gaze, seriousness creeping into his tone of voice. "You don't know what will happen if and when you eventually tell her your secrets." The teen opened his mouth to speak, but Dick held up a hand. "Maybe you'll lose her, maybe you won't. But it's guaranteed that you will if you cut off your friendship once she leaves, and it sounds like that's the only option you're allowing yourself... Right?"

Damian didn't answer, his jaw tightening in annoyance.

_Drive the point home, Dick._

"So why are you purposefully letting her go if you're worried about losing her?"

Unlike Damian and Bruce, Dick didn't often have to make himself sound cold when he meant business. He didn't have to inject acidity into his tone or narrow his eyes menacingly—he could tell by the way the younger Wayne was staring at him then glancing away that his words were sinking in and taking effect anyway.

From what Dick could tell, the kid still had a lot to learn when it came to understanding that people and life in general were unpredictable and fickle. It was never a good idea to think you could go into a situation knowing all the outcomes and all the ways in which you would respond—even Bruce knew that. His guess was that Damian felt this was the "only" option because it was the one where he was the one in control... he would be the one purposefully severing his tie with Jess rather than letting fate do the work later on.

_And that is so Damian of him_, Dick laughed to himself.

No one knew how Damian's friendship with Jess would develop or turn out within the next few weeks, months, or years if it got to that point, but Dick would be damned if he didn't get his beloved younger brother to let himself be vulnerable, to not be alone, to allow himself some pursuit of happiness.

"Letting her go hurts her less." Damian's eyes were resting somewhere across the cave.

"That hurts you more, though, doesn't it?"

"Even if it does, it would be selfish to continue this friendship just because doing otherwise hurts me."

Dick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Damian. It's already selfish that you want to end a friendship because you're afraid to tell her your secrets eventually."

The teen was silent, his gaze having fallen to the floor before him.

"Hey. I'll stop lecturing you about this, alright?" Dick chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, before continuing, "But give yourself more credit. Give Jess and your friendship more credit. Obviously at this point, it's proved to be more than what you'd expected."

"She's leaving. I'm not sure I see the benefit in even a long-distance friendship."

"Well... maybe she doesn't want to leave. Or, you know, maybe she'll come back."

Dick shrugged, seeing something change in Damian's green gaze. If he was guessing correctly, the teen was considering his words and the gears in that brain of his were spinning... but why? What was he thinking or planning? Before he could ask, Damian was speaking again but on a different topic entirely.

"While we're here, discussing my fascinating interpersonal relationships, I suppose I should tell you that Father and I are doing fine." The seemingly-permanent line between his brows had softened as he looked over at Dick, a knowing look on his face.

"Really..." Dick answered slowly, unable to help feeling somewhat suspicious of his words. His eyes narrowed a little, mostly to be playful, but Damian was scoffing at him.

"Yes, really. Besides, I'm not dense, Grayson. I knew you were going to bring it up at least once before you went back home."

Of course he'd known.

He went on, "You have nothing to worry about. I simply didn't agree with the way he was handling the case involving Jessica and the gang. I feel differently now—things have changed."

Though his voice was even, Dick read the skepticism in Damian, and he figured it was from this other attempt at honesty. He didn't know how exactly the two Waynes had resolved their issues, but it sounded like Damian had at least reached the conclusion that he'd been wrong. Whether it was because of his unexpected friendship with Jess or something else entirely that had changed his mind about Bruce's methods (and Jess herself), Dick had no idea.

But he was proud of his little brother regardless.

"I'm glad to hear that." He shot him a grin. "I like seeing you guys get along." He offered a small smile that his little brother saw as he looked over. "You're growing up too fast, D. Seriously."

The comment earned an eye-roll from Damian as he stood with his arms crossed. "Let's not get too emotional now, Grayson."

"That's not what I meant when I said, 'Seriously,' Mr. Too-Serious-for-His-Own-Good."

Damian shot him another glare before smirking a little. "As annoying as you are, I'm going to miss having you around."

"The feeling is mutual, Dami." Standing from the bench, he reached his arms up to the ceiling and stretched with a yawn. "We should probably head to the airport soon. I'll go make sure I've packed everything."

"Don't underestimate my timeliness. We both know _I_ would be the one waiting on _you_."

He was almost to the door leading into the manor as he chuckled, "I'd never underestimate you."

Later, in his room, Dick heard a gentle knock as he triple-checked the suitcase on his bed. Bruce was standing in the doorway, dressed casually in a plain t-shirt and pajama pants. Though it was the middle of the night, Dick was not surprised to see the older man awake.

"It always seems too short when you visit."

Smiling, Dick straightened up and looked over at his father figure, two different shades of blue irises meeting across the room. "I know. I'm glad I was able to stay as long as I did, though." He paused for a moment before adding, "I swear Damian ages by a few years every time I see him."

Bruce let out a soft chuckle. "That's what I think when I get to see any of you visit. Although... I suppose it's a lot more accurate for some than others."

His voice had lowered, making Dick take a moment to read his aging face. He knew the older man was referring to the rest of the family, everyone else who didn't visit as frequently as he did. The thought sent a painful tightness in his chest that lasted briefly before he crossed his arms and responded.

"Come December we'll have quite a reunion for both Tim's graduation and the holidays, right?"

He already saw the answer on his father's face despite how well Bruce masked his emotions: December wouldn't come soon enough.

"Have you heard from Jason lately?"

The question startled him; Dick's eyes widened momentarily, but then he managed to gather himself as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and met Bruce's inquisitive gaze.

"No, I haven't spoken to him in... I don't know, a year, give or take a few months. Why?"

Bruce took a deep breath in through his nose, looking down at the floor and then back up at him. "I tried reaching out to him after Titus... I hoped he would at least contact Damian, but from what I know, no one has heard from him."

Dick shook his head. "I hoped so, too, but we know how he is, B. For all we know, he could be off the grid somewhere in Europe or—"

He cut off, stopping himself before going any further. He was sure Bruce knew what he'd been about to say... though both of them probably agreed that they would know if something had happened to Jason. And if they didn't, all they had to do was seek him out to find out themselves.

But as much as they wondered about Jason Todd, neither of them wanted to take initiative to do such a thing. That and the man certainly knew how to make himself disappear if he didn't want to be found.

"We'll see you next month?"

Dick knew the older man was referring to Damian's twentieth birthday. Raising his brows as he zipped up the suitcase and set it on the floor, he answered, "As long as work permits, I should be able to visit again, with Kori and Mar'i this time. Talked to them earlier and they'd like that."

"So would we."

The two of them continued their small talk as they headed downstairs, finding both Damian and Alfred in the foyer, waiting. After hugging Bruce and then Alfred, he gave them a small salute before leaving with the younger Wayne. His heart was growing heavier the further they got away from the manor and the closer they got to the airport, as it always did whenever he ended his visits. The last time he'd been able to get away from work long enough to spend more than a few weeks in Gotham had been last year, which felt too long ago.

Dick already knew he'd miss the three of them the moment he boarded the plane; it was probably safe to assume that Titus's unfortunate passing had really driven home more feelings of attachment to this place and his family, and it made him even less eager to leave his younger brother. Damian was the kind of young man who could handle being alone, in his solitude, but it was only natural for Dick to continue worrying about him as he always had for the last few years... especially when Tim and Steph had finally left the manor, effectively making Damian the last and only one of Bruce's children to be under the same roof. Sure, maybe he'd resolved his previous issues with their father, but that didn't mean Dick would cease any and all concern he had about the teen. It'd never been easy trying to guide him through years of internalized doubt and struggles with his identity.

_"Was he always so... you know, blunt and straightforward? Even as a kid?" Jess had asked randomly in the theater room when it was just the two of them, Damian having disappeared momentarily to assist Bruce (in the cave, unbeknownst to her). "With such an... extensive vocabulary?"_

_Dick couldn't help chuckling a little as he glanced over from the recliner he'd chosen to lounge in. "Believe it or not, yes. He was ten years old and acting like a young adult, bossy attitude and all."_

_"You're the oldest out of all of Bruce's kids, right?"_

_"Yep. Damian's the baby—don't tell him I said that though," he told her, earning a small laugh from the teen._

_Silence fell between them for several moments, long enough that Dick didn't think she was going to continue the topic. But then she was speaking again, her tone of voice different._

_"How has he been since... Titus?"_

_Glancing up, he saw something tender in her wide, hazel eyes as she fiddled with the end of her sleeve, cross-legged in her spot at one end of the couch she'd been sharing with Damian._

_He couldn't say he was taken aback that she had asked. "He's... handling it as well as he can, I think. You can only deal with something like that in a number of ways, I guess, and he hasn't really done anything too out-of-character if that makes sense." Dick then added, "Why? Have you noticed something?"_

_Jess shook her head. "Not really. I mean, he seems like he's acting more normal now, but... I just wanted to make sure, you know?" A slight wrinkle formed between her brows as she trained her gaze on a spot across the theater room, concentration in her eyes. "I know people tend to act like they're okay to cover up the fact that they're not. And he seems like the kind of person that would do that."_

_"Well, you're not wrong; he _is_ like that. But maybe that's okay since he's got people who care about him and are there for him."_

_The corner of her mouth tugged upward as she met his gaze. "You really are the wise, older brother."_

_Dick gave a feigned, embarrassed grimace. "Oh, I don't know about that," he laughed._

_"It's true. I could already tell that Damian pretty much looks up to you, and he kind of said so himself, so..."_

_"That had to have been a fake Damian."_

_"I swear upon it," she said, adopting a serious face and holding up her hand as if swearing an oath. "He didn't _exactly_ say it, but he's told me that you're always around and giving him advice and all that. So, yeah, he pretty much admitted it."_

Is that so?_ he mused to himself._

_"Would it be inaccurate for me to say he'd probably give us that signature death glare if he knew we were talking about him right now?"_

_"You'd be spot on," Dick answered. "And to be fair, you've managed to stick around as long as you have, so you deserve some credit, too. Not a lot of people are 'friend' material to that kid."_

_Something in her expression shifted. "Yeah, I really don't know what I've done to get that honor." Jess was smiling still and there was some playfulness in her voice, but Dick sensed some honesty in her words._

_He paused, thinking, before offering, "Want to know what my wise, all-knowing, big brother self would say?"_

_"Please. I probably need the advice, honestly."_

_With a light laugh, Dick then said, "I honestly don't have the answer for everything... but if there's anything I've learned growing up about friends and people close to you, it's that sometimes you don't know why you trust them or keep them around. You just know that you do and that you want to... or even better: that you should."_

_Jess pressed her hands together like she was praying and nodded her head at him. "Thank you for your wise words, Richard Grayson. I appreciate you enlightening me."_

_As the older man chuckled again, Damian was entering the theater then—what comedic timing he had—a brow raised slightly as he took up his seat next to Jess. "Care to enlighten _me_ about whatever you two were going on about just now?"_

_"Nothing special," she answered in an exaggerated, nonchalant tone with a shrug. "We were just gossiping about you."_

_"Full-on gossiping like teenagers," Dick chimed in._

_"You were not."_

_Jess shook her head. "Of course not. We'd never do that," she responded in a tongue-in-cheek tone._

_Damian shot her a doubtful look before rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote. At the same time, Jess and Dick exchanged knowing looks, the two of them trying to suppress grins while the younger Wayne between them seemingly didn't notice at all._

"I'll try and visit again next month, eh?"

Dick pulled his suitcase from the trunk of the car, turning towards Damian who stood with his arms crossed.

"You don't have to do that, Richard."

"Maybe I don't have to, but I want to."

The teen shut the trunk before following the older man to the sidewalk, the doors to the airport several yards behind him. A few other people were nearby, hugging one another and waving at travelers who were also catching flights. The air was slightly chilly, Gotham's night sky nearly black above them and dotted with tiny stars that were almost indistinguishable due to the outdoor lighting.

Reaching out to wrap an arm around Damian's shoulders, Dick pulled him in for a hug. "I'll miss ya, D."

Damian returned the embrace quickly, his arms dropping after just a moment. Looking up at his older brother with amused, green eyes, he said, "You act like you live across the country, yet you visit far more often than anyone else does."

"What, does that mean I don't get to miss you guys anyway?"

"I guess not."

"Thought so." Dick grinned then stuck a hand out to ruffle Damian's hair, earning a scowl as he reached up to try and rearrange the dark locks. "Thanks for the ride, Damian."

He grabbed hold of his suitcase handle, heading towards the sliding doors and waving at his youngest brother. "Try to behave, and call me if you need anything."

His immediate assumption was that the teen would say something like "I'm not a child" with that trademark, smug look, but Damian said something entirely different, an intriguing, faint smile on his face.

"I'll be fine."

The teen's expression reminded Dick of several albeit rare moments over the past years when he caught the kid trying to smile his way out of something, whether it was to mask another emotion or because he was having a hard time actually letting himself feel.

_"Dick. Did you really think I wouldn't hear you and Jessica talking about me?"_

_"No, I kind of figured you would."_

_"So why'd you continue the conversation then? You couldn't have known what she'd say."_

_"True... but I knew it would prove something you needed to hear."_

_"Which is...?"_

_"That she cares about you."_

All Dick could do was return the smile as he paused in his movement before walking towards the doors again. He could feel Damian's gaze on his back, and it took more effort than it should have to not turn around.

_I think you'll be more than fine, Damian._

* * *

**Note: **hi guys, sorry it's taken me so long to update! i moved into a new apartment at the end of June and then just got caught up with life, although i've managed to do other things i enjoy, like binge-watching naruto, playing video games, etc. On that note, i probably won't be trying to update weekly anymore, especially since work is going to start getting busier as the fall semester approaches for school (i work for a university).

thank u so much for the recent reviews :) i also thought it was probably a little early for Jess to be opening up to Damian, but—i think i mentioned this in another chapter—i feel like she's the kind of person who trusts easily (as Damian so intelligently figured out from the beginning). that, obviously, hasn't always been a good thing for her in the past, and we'll just have to see how that works out with Damian and also Misty as her new friends o.O

to answer **vic90**'s question about what Damian looks like, i honestly picture him the way he's portrayed in the animated movies as well as the Injustice 2 video game. BUT i certainly don't want to erase his mother's side of the family, so if anything, he's at least white-passing in my head based on all the illustrations i've seen of him, including fanart. of course, that's not to say he can't have a bit of an olive undertone in his skin :) to avoid complicating things, readers are welcome to envision him however they like since there are so many great versions of him out there!

hope you all are doing well. thanks for reading xx


	22. Little Things

_"I don't know where to go,_

_I don't think this world is made for me_

_Behind the clouds, there's a castle in the sky,_

_and I just want you to take me there_

_And then I'm free,_

_Then I'm free with you"_

_~ Rnla & yaeow, "Free With You"_

* * *

**Chapter 22: Little Things**

Misty Roman liked to think she was a pretty understanding person.

Despite the shit she'd been through growing up in a household of people who were family by blood but acted nothing like it, she'd managed to figure out how to stay empathetic and remember that human beings did things for many reasons that were usually selfish. Their choices weren't always smart, but people rarely made decisions just for the hell of it. People got scared, fell in love, got angry, felt overjoyed, hated the world because of something tragic that'd happened. People tended to do stupid things based on emotions, desperation, or something like both.

But out of everyone she'd ever met in her life, she just couldn't figure out her new friend, Jess, the girl who she'd just started getting to know better and had suddenly fallen into the dangerous world that was drowning—almost literally—herself in underage parties and alcohol.

Granted, Misty hadn't really talked a whole lot about her own past, not in a whole lot of detail at least. It wasn't like she was secretive—in fact, she was pretty open about having emotionally unavailable parents and having reserved such bitter feelings toward them for so long, and she'd already explained to Jess that their in-process divorce was the reason she was at the facility. While those two idiots were too busy figuring out who'd get the six-figure house, the number of luxury cars and other materialistic things they cared about, her older sister Maya was trying to get custody of her and become her guardian. And because things like divorces cost a lot of money and sometimes took a long, long time, Misty had done everything she could do to get put into the facility since she wasn't allowed to stay with Maya in the meantime.

And it hadn't been all that bad so far, but now it was nearly August and she'd started her morning with the very good news: the long-overdue process was over, and Maya was pretty much her legal guardian now.

Maybe she'd been jumping to conclusions, but she had possessed a strong feeling that Jess also had a pretty troubled past, one that made her refrain from talking much about herself or her family. Misty had respected her boundaries and rarely asked questions that might've been too personal, and that could have been why her new friend almost randomly decided to open up to her the other week. _I mean, I didn't even do anything special or out of the ordinary to deserve it. _But something must have triggered Jess earlier this summer to make her turn to alcohol—Misty clearly remembered worrying about the girl the first time she hadn't been able to reach or find her the night she'd disappeared from another house party, not hearing from her until the next day.

She was no mind reader, but she wasn't quite sure she believed Jess's explanation that she'd asked Damian to pick her up from the party and had forgotten to tell Misty...

But who was she to judge? Obviously, she'd gone through some pretty hellish things in the last few years, and Misty liked to think she empathized with her. Losing your parents, trying to live with a stranger who was family only on paper, running away and struggling to survive? Yeah, no wonder Jess was the way she was.

The pink-and-black-haired teen stood outside the bakery shop, hands shoved inside the pockets of her over-sized windbreaker as she rocked back and forth on her heels. A pop song blasted through her headphones, blocking out the annoying sounds of Gotham in the daytime. One of the city's major intersections was just right in front of her since the bakery was on the corner; pedestrians flowed in both directions around her, Gothamites dressed in business-wear or casual attire.

The time on her phone read two minutes to three in the afternoon. She'd arrived a little early by about fifteen minutes but only because her work shift had ended sooner than expected. Part of her wanted to go into the bakery and sit down, but the teen had figured she'd better stand outside to make sure she flagged down Jess since she'd never been here before... And she wouldn't be surprised if the other girl got lost.

Glancing to her left, she happened to spot that very friend walking towards her, this time without her characteristic blue hair. Dressed in a Flash t-shirt tucked into denim shorts, Jess broke into a smile when she saw Misty and hurried towards her, her newly-dyed hair bouncing around her shoulders.

"How's it look?" she greeted, eyes glittering with excitement as she came to a stop in front of her. The long locks that had once been a faded blue were now a dark, chestnut brown, trimmed a few inches until they fell just below her shoulders.

Misty hung her headphones around her neck and then reached out to gently touch a few wavy strands next to her face. "So this is your natural hair color. It looks so good, dude. Did she style it this way? You said your hair is naturally wavy, right?"

"Yeah, she did a pretty good job eyeballing my old pictures and getting my color right. I think she used some products that are made for wavy and curly hair, so I guess this is what it looks like if I actually spend more than two minutes on it," Jess answered with a snort.

"As much as I liked the blue on you, this looks awesome. I mean, it looks so much healthier with the cut, too..." The other teen walked a circle around her friend, admiring the new color. "Geez, you make me wanna strip my color and re-dye it."

"Do it."

"It _has_ been a while since I let my hair just chill and not get bleached all the time..."

The two of them entered the bakery, talking away and walking into air full of various, sweet aromas. It was small yet cozy with its warm-colored furniture and millions of photos and portraits plastered against the light pink walls. Though there was a bit of a line to the register, not many customers had taken up the small, round tables at the other end of the bakery.

It had been a while since Misty had been here, but since meeting Jess, she'd been out and about more in Gotham, taking her to places she liked and giving her an informal tour of the city. (Three out of five times, it was some place that had food.) Her friend had mentioned something about craving pastries earlier today, so naturally, Misty had suggested they check out this family-owned business.

"I bet you're excited that you can move in with Maya now. When is that?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah, it was a long time coming. I should be able to move out by the end of this week, I think. I'm just glad everything got resolved before school starts. Sucks I'll be leaving you though," Misty said with a pout.

Jess gave a shrug, wearing a small smile. "I mean, it doesn't really matter that much since I'm leaving in two weeks anyway. Do you need any help packing or anything?"

"I'll be okay. But you're totally welcome to come see her place and even hang out while we can."

"I'd be down."

After spending a few minutes standing in line and discussing the menu hanging against the wall behind the register, Jess wondered aloud, "Do they have anything vegetarian?"

Misty eyed her, saying, "For Damian, huh? You seeing him today?"

Hazel gaze sweeping over the variety of pastries in the glass display case, her friend distractedly answered, "Yeah, he's gonna pick me up when we're done here."

She couldn't lie: Misty was kind of amazed by how close the other teen had grown to the guy she'd sworn was one of the most intimidating, indifferent people she knew of. Of course, she'd never really known Damian while he was still at Gotham Academy and only heard the whispers and occasional gossip from her peers, but it didn't take a genius to at least notice that he wasn't the kind of person you could just approach and have a decent conversation with. So the fact that Jess had managed to interest him enough that they were _friends_ now…

_It's 'cause she beat him at air hockey, huh?_ Misty laughed to herself.

"I gotta admit I'm kind of impressed," she confessed after they placed their orders and carried their small paper bags to a lone table in the corner. Sitting down and taking a sip from her iced coffee, she went on, "I honestly didn't think you'd still be friends with him at this point."

Jess's eyebrows shot up from across the table while she pulled her pastry from its bag. "Why's that?"

"Well, you already knew I was surprised you guys even made friends at all, which is one thing, but like, the fact that you still hang out a lot and are pretty much attached at the hips? I'm baffled."

"You really think we're attached at the hips?" she chuckled before dropping a piece of the bread in her mouth.

"Uh, yes," Misty admitted wholeheartedly. "No wonder Kade thought you two were dating."

The lightest shade of pink tinged Jess's face, accompanied by a look of sheepishness. Was it because Misty had pretty much said it looked like she and Damian were more than friends or because she'd mentioned Kade? Or even both?

"Well, I mean, besides you guys and him, there isn't anyone else I hang out with. And he's got a little more free time than you do, so..."

"Hey, I have no problem with it at all. It's just an observation." Raising her hands in a show of innocence, Misty continued, "I'm only a _tiny_ bit jealous—obviously he likes you enough to be around you, which is a pretty big accomplishment."

"It's more like he 'tolerates' me enough. Pretty sure I drive him up the wall sometimes."

"Good. He seems like the kind of guy that needs that once in a while."

The two teens laughed together, carrying on their jokes. Misty figured her friend knew her "jealousy" was nothing serious and anything to actually worry about—as much as she found the guy incredibly good-looking and nice to gawk at, there wasn't an ounce of desire in her being to act on it. Besides, if there was anyone who probably even had a chance of catching his eye—

_It's definitely you, Jess._

"Enough about Damian—no offense to him—but tell me what your plans are now," Misty began dismissively, waving a hand in the air. "You're almost all finished up at the library and tutoring or whatever, right?"

Swirling her own cup of iced coffee in her hand, Jess explained, "Their renovation is pretty close to done, so my last day will probably be this week or next, and I have my final exams and stuff with my tutor this Thursday. So yeah, I'm practically done with everything soon."

Her eyes had been averted, running over the items on the table and flickering to the drink in her hand. The subject was probably more sensitive than Misty had assumed, which had her guessing that Jess wasn't eager to return home. Based on what she knew about her old life and what she'd be going back to, Misty could see why she felt that way.

"You're gonna keep in touch still, right? And it would be really cool if you could visit during the holidays."

Jess grinned a bit as she sat up in her chair. "I'll definitely keep in touch." The smile faltered as something changed in her gaze. "But as for visiting… I don't really know what my aunt expects from me. We haven't talked about what things are going to be like after my probation is over, so…"

Brows furrowing, Misty scoffed. "Well, that'd be stupid if she doesn't let you have a life. I mean, you're already working your ass off to get back to living life normally, catching up on school and then going back this fall. The least she could do is let you come back for a week or something."

The sounds of chattering customers and bakery employees seemed to amplify while her friend remained silent, making Misty realize the other teen _really_ didn't want to leave. She'd formed new friendships here despite all the responsibilities she'd had to carry the last few months, and now she had to return to a place that only held bad memories—at least, that's what it sounded like. The thought tugged painfully at her heartstrings, and Misty found herself wishing there was some way she could help her.

"It'd be nice if you were able to stay and went to the academy with me. We'd have so much fun," she tried to say lightheartedly, but judging by Jess's failed attempt to laugh along, maybe she was just making it worse.

Clearing her throat, Misty grabbed her phone and unlocked it. "Well, you should help me look online for some new hair styles to try."

"Tired of the pink already?"

"You've inspired me to do somethin' a little different."

"That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me."

Some time passed, the rest of their afternoon filled with casual conversation and "ooh"s and "ah"s over both amazing and horrendous online images of colorful hair dye jobs. By the time Misty had sipped the last of her coffee and ate both of her pastries (despite having planned to save one for later), Jess was announcing that her ride had arrived. They both left the bakery and stepped out into Gotham's cool air, dodging and weaving other pedestrians to make it to the end of the street.

Up ahead, a familiar luxury car that stood out like a sore thumb was parallel-parked against the sidewalk. Leaning against the driver's side door was none other than Damian Wayne, who was casually sporting a gray, short-sleeved t-shirt—one that was just the _right_ amount of snug, in Misty's humble opinion—and jeans. His arms were crossed (hence her observation about the shirt's tightness) as his uninterested gaze passed over the pedestrians walking by until it landed on the two girls, making him push himself off the vehicle expectantly.

Misty caught the way his eyes lingered on Jess as they approached him, and the first words out of his mouth told her why.

"You changed your hair."

"Figured I should go back to my natural color," Jess told him with a cheeky grin. "The blue was starting to look a little green anyway, which is _not _cute. What do you think?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, green eyes examining her new appearance. Misty had to admit she wasn't sure what he was going to say—would he really say he didn't like it if that were the case? That funny wrinkle between his brows softened, making him look a lot less like... well, his usual, glaring self. The look on his face was almost amiable. Then:

"It looks nice."

The grin remained on Jess's face. "You like it? Thanks, Dami."

_Geez, how did he let her get away with that nickname?_

For what might've been the first time since they'd arrived, Damian looked at Misty and nodded his greeting. "Sup," was all she said with a smile.

"Do you need a ride anywhere?" Jess turned to her, then glanced at Damian with widened eyes. "Is that okay?"

All he did was wait silently, prompting the pink-and-black-haired teen to shrug. "If it's no trouble, I actually need to go to the mall."

He tilted his head towards the backseat of the car, giving the two girls his answer. Jess climbed into the passenger seat as Misty settled in—_carefully_ because it was just so freaking pristine and expensive back here—behind Damian's seat. They began riding in silence until Jess reached for an aux cord in the middle console, plugging her phone in to play some indie pop song Misty vaguely recognized.

She couldn't help being nosy and watching her friend and the way she interacted with Damian's car as if it was her own... or, more accurately, like she'd been in it so many times and was comfortable in it. Plugging in her phone without even asking? Misty definitely hadn't failed to notice that. After checking for something in her eye in the visor above her head, Jess mentioned to him that she'd gotten him quiche from the bakery.

The next minute had Misty's eyes nearly bugging out of her head: Damian said something to her, and she proceeded to place the slice on a napkin in her hand, which she held out towards him as a makeshift plate. He would use his free hand to take a bite, then put it back on Jess's hand. Misty had to tear her gaze away and look out the window, trying to get a grip on how dumbfounded she felt.

In the handful of times she'd seen Damian since that day at the arcade, she had never witnessed something like this between them. As seemingly innocent and simple as the interaction was, Misty just couldn't fathom how... at ease and totally _comfortable_ they acted. It was just so _weird_.

What was that she'd said about them being attached at the hips?

_Ha. I was totally right._

Not only that, but hadn't Jess said something about Damian not wanting food in his car when she'd run that errand with him a while ago?

Shaking her head, Misty worked to put aside her awe. Maybe she was just looking too deeply into it and making a big deal out of nothing, but a small part of her just refused to gloss over the very obvious evidence happening in front of her eyes. Not that any of this was bad, of course. How could it be? If anything... it just made her silently laugh to herself in amusement.

The drive to the mall took less than ten minutes. When Damian pulled up to the sidewalk, attracting the attention of passersby heading to the doors, Misty unbuckled her seat belt just as Jess turned around and tossed her a smile.

"Text me later," she said with a little wave. "I'll see you tonight."

"I will," Misty replied while opening the car door. "Thanks for the ride, Damian."

"You're welcome."

Before shutting the door, she bent down and teased, "Don't have too much fun." Then, with a grin, Misty stepped away and started toward the entry doors.

* * *

_Why do you like being on rooftops?_

It was a question he'd always had in the back of his mind, especially after the few times he'd caught her by herself on a Gotham building. Of course, it'd been Robin that came across her, but tonight, she'd asked him—Damian—to climb out onto the manor's roof to watch the sun set... a first for this side of his persona, a first for him at all.

Was this not something they did in corny movies and teen fiction?

"I just don't see the appeal."

"Well, of course you don't—you said you've never done it before. But you will once you spend a few minutes up there."

"Tt. I see the trees and sky every time I go outside."

"But you've never actually_ seen_ them."

"Whatever that means."

"Would you just hush and get up there so you can help me?"

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Damian swiftly planted one foot on the handrail of the balcony outside his bedroom before hopping towards the slanted rooftop above them. He turned around to see Jess standing below, her hazel eyes having widened a bit at the little effort it'd taken him to make the climb.

"I couldn't even pretend to do that if I wanted to."

A faint smirk quirked the corner of his mouth as he held his hand out, hauling the girl up as she copied his movements with her feet and made it safely (though less gracefully) onto the roof. She let out an exaggerated breath after carefully climbing up a few feet and turning to plant her bottom on the shingles. Next to her, Damian readjusted his own position—_Good thing this slope isn't any steeper, otherwise she'd be rolling off by now_, he mused silently—and watched as Jess took the lightweight blanket she'd brought from his room and arranged it in her lap.

He didn't say anything as she scooted closer and flung it first around his shoulders and then her own, bringing her knees up to her chest. It wasn't cold enough that he really wanted the blanket, but he wasn't going to complain; there was the slightest breeze brushing over his bare arms and through his hair.

"Look."

Jess was pointing before them at the sunset beyond the tree line. Shades of orange, pink, and yellow flooded the edge of the sky, bleeding into a pale yellow above their heads. Slightly to the left was the city of Gotham, its lights hardly visible and unable to compete against the massive, colorful background that washed the surrounding trees in golden light. Still silent, Damian took it in, his initial doubts and skepticism fading away into a meek appreciation of what his friend had practically bragged about. He'd always known what his home looked like in the dead of night, yet this sight was nowhere near the same.

Instead of looking out at the city under a black, night sky plagued with shadows and industrial smoke and hearing sirens and street traffic below, he was soaking in endless shades of sunlight, layers of clouds, and silence dotted with occasional chirps of birds in the trees. This was a sunset he'd seen a countless number of times beyond his window... but this was the very first time he had actually gone outside and taken a moment to truly see and experience it.

Glancing over at her, Damian saw that hazel irises were trained on him, widened like eyes of a child who was eager to show off a trick she'd just learned. It was kind of endearing, really. The sunset bathed half her face and hair in its warm light, reflecting off the brunette strands. Seeing her with her natural hair color was only slightly jarring since he'd gotten used to her unconventional, blue strands. And there was something else in the way she was almost smiling, something like... awe.

Before he could further comprehend the look on her face, she was quickly breaking eye contact and looking back out across the yard. "I've actually only ever been on rooftops in the city at night when it's darker," she explained in a quiet voice. "This is completely different.

"And I already know what you're thinking," the teen continued. "What am I doing out on a rooftop in Gotham at night?" She paused, eyes still turned towards the sunset, before going on, "I've only done it when I really needed to get away and be alone. To think and stuff, I guess."

"That's not a smart idea."

"I know, I know..."

Bringing his knees up and resting his elbows on them, hands clasped before him, Damian asked, "Then what made you want us to come out here?"

Jess didn't respond for a long moment, glancing down at her sneakers and shuffling them across the shingles beneath them. "I've been thinking a lot lately about things I've never really done before. You know how people talk about what they want to do before they die? Since I'm going back to Central City in a few weeks, I realized there's just... stuff I haven't gotten to do here. Things that wouldn't be the same if I did them back home.

"I know, it sounds super cliche." She let out a light laugh as she looked up at him. "But aside from hanging out with you and Misty, all I've done this summer is just do my hours at the library, work, and get tutored, but I want... I want to do more. And I'm not talking roller-coasters or anything wild 'cause watching a sunset is just... simple, you know? It's just one of those little things."

While she'd been talking, Damian had been reading her body language, the way she fidgeted with her feet and ran her fingers around the corner of the blanket over her shoulder. She was glancing into the trees past him now, though there was a faraway look in her eyes like she was seeing a memory instead. The older teen couldn't quite put his finger on it—which bothered him a little—but it always seemed like she was hesitant or nervous when explaining herself. Perhaps she had a hard time putting her thoughts into words or felt negatively about expressing them.

Then again, even he knew he wasn't in a position to question someone else's ability to be open and share what was on their mind.

"Have you made a list of things to do, then?"

"Not really... Kind of thinking of them as I go. I didn't even get the idea of watching the sunset until you picked me up today."

What else was there to do that would count as a "little thing"? Was there something he could suggest to her?...

"Maybe being a runaway and a juvenile delinquent just made me start appreciating the smaller things in life," Jess spoke up in a joking tone. "Who knew that's what it would take to get me to do that?"

A breeze drifted over them, making goosebumps raise across his forearms that weren't sheltered by the blanket. "I suppose that makes sense, though I can't say I've ever cared to live my life by such philosophical means."

"I don't think a lot of people do until it's actually brought to their attention... but I dunno, maybe it's dumb. Sometimes I don't know if anything makes sense until I say it out loud, and now that I have, it does sound kinda lame."

"Being appreciative is... lame." The words came out less like a question and more like he was testing out her thought aloud.

"No... I mean 'yes'? Ugh, I don't know. I'm just... I just _don't know_ sometimes," she said quietly, resting her chin on her knees and wrapping her arms around them. "I don't know how to think, how to feel... what to do."

Damian watched her, the wrinkle between his brows softening. He wanted to say something... but what?

"Maybe I'm... lost."

Lost.

The way she said the word, it was soft, like she hadn't wanted to speak it. From where he sat, Damian could see that her gaze was turned downwards to her shoes. She was still curled up, goosebumps across the bare skin of her legs. The air around them suddenly felt vulnerable, leaving him grasping for an appropriate way to respond to this change.

"Sometimes I think about the life I've lived this past year, the things I've done," she went on, fiddling with her shoelace, "and most of the time, I end up wondering why I even try.

"My parents are gone, I don't have a relationship with my aunt, I don't want to go back to my old life. There's nothing left for me there. But here..."

A yearning arose in his chest, a particular feeling that intensified as the silence passed. _'But here...'? What's here?_

Jess was looking at him now, a faint glimmer in her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get all sad and whiny with you."

_What's here, Jessica?_

"You have nothing to apologize for," he replied after a moment of hesitation. "I can understand—try to understand, at least—where you are coming from... Perhaps you're not giving yourself enough credit."

She said nothing, having turned her gaze back to the sunset.

"... You deserve another chance."

That made her look at him again, that glint returning to her eyes and making his chest fill with something... _good_. He couldn't recall the last time he had ever uttered words that felt so astonishingly true. _You deserve another chance._

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Thanks, Damian. That means a lot to me." Her words were just as faint, drifting between them; they gave him this strange desire to hear them again, louder.

And then she was smiling even more. "Can you believe that a few months ago I thought you were cold and emotionless without the ability to smile? But it turns out you're much softer and more human than that. And you _do_ smile sometimes."

He ignored the obvious teasing, unsure of how to feel about the seemingly random statement.

_"You're not as scary as you first seemed… I guess you just seem really serious all the time. You kinda have this angsty, bad-boy thing going on."_

Those words she'd uttered to him months ago echoed in the back of his mind, reminding him that they'd both apparently turned out to be different than the other had initially thought.

"You must be expecting me to say the same thing about you," he then said.

"Not really. I guess it depends on what your first impression of me was."

_A troubled, reckless teenager undeserving of second chances._

"Clumsy."

She let out a snort, throwing her hands up. "That doesn't count 'cause that turned out to be right."

"So you are admitting it?"

"How else am I supposed to embrace it?" Jess swept her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated flip of her hand. "Besides, my anti-klutz only kicks in when I'm on the ice. Other than that, it's a free-for-all for these graceful limbs." She raised her arms briefly to shake them in a comical, noodle-like manner.

He felt his mouth curving up into a meager grin at her self-deprecating (though sometimes cringe-worthy) humor, a quality he'd admittedly grown fond of in his time getting know her. _I think I'm going to miss that._ The thought hit him out of nowhere, making the expression on his face falter as he stared at his friend, who was snickering at herself and then readjusting the blanket that had fallen off due to her silly arm dancing. It nearly felt like yesterday that they'd sat in that diner and asked each other questions to pass the time, leaving him perplexed over her ridiculous wittiness and eagerness to get to know him. Dick was probably laughing now in his I-told-you-so manner when Damian wasn't looking.

"Jessica."

The name had left his lips completely against his will, unbeknownst to his always-analytical, hyper-aware mind, like his brain had intentions completely separated from his thoughts. How ironic.

She glanced up at him, seemingly oblivious to the momentary episode of confusion he'd given himself. "Hm?"

Her eyes ran over his face, and then her brows furrowed a little as she waited for his response.

They seemed to stare at each other for a long, long moment—vaguely, Damian knew he'd win if this ended up being some absurd staring contest. His gaze was shifting between her eyes as he remained silent and still, and that was when he noticed a peculiar difference in them. Even in the light of the sunset, the brownish shade surrounding her left pupil was more prominent, nearly half the iris, whereas her right one consisted mostly of the soft, pale green that composed her hazel eyes. Together, they were lighter and more vibrant in the sun as they remained on him.

He was so concentrated on this that he almost didn't realize she was reaching towards him. In a split second, part of Damian wanted to grab her wrist to stop her... but he didn't. The pads of her index and middle fingers touched the skin between his brows, not roughly but not particularly in a soft way either. He couldn't say he had any expectations for how her touch would feel, but it was, surprisingly, not even cold in the chill of the night air.

Perturbed, Damian continued to stare at Jess past her hand that was in front of his face, about to ask her what she thought she was doing.

"You always have these little wrinkles between your eyebrows like you're concentrating or glaring all the time," she was saying.

The observation seemed unusual and random, but the look on the girl's face was thoughtful and almost amused.

"You'll get premature, permanent wrinkles before you're forty."

Jess was grinning a little like she was proud of her teasing comment. _Hmph._ Damian was just about to swat her fingers away when she gave him a gentle push against his forehead and pulled her hand back.

"Don't do that again," he muttered, bringing his own fingers up to rub lightly at the spot where she'd touched him.

She seemed to ignore him. "What were you going to say?"

Something about her sudden gesture had put him off, yet not in a bad way. It felt familiar… _similar_ to the way he'd felt when she had first hugged him, when she'd taken his hand during Titus's burial. In fact, it merely amplified what he'd been feeling as he sat there, trying to understand the reason for his sudden anticipation that she would be leaving Gotham.

Warm.

"Nothing," Damian finally answered, his face falling back into its usual, apathetic demeanor.

For a moment, she looked like she was going to say something, perhaps demand that he tell her what he'd been about to say… but then Jess was shrugging and looking to the sunset that had turned a vibrant red above the dark tree line.

_I'm going to miss you._

* * *

She wished she could read his mind.

He was such an expert at remaining composed, though that wasn't to say she hadn't been able to see him emote much more freely at other times. Nevertheless, it was clear that between the two of them, Jess was much easier to read. Damian still usually asked her what was on her mind but only because she managed to give it away in her body language or facial expressions.

But why couldn't she ever do the same with him?

She'd seen the way he was almost staring at her as if he'd realized something or was trying to figure something out. (And then Jess had started to squirm under his green-eyed gaze, focusing on that characteristic furrowing of his brows and deciding to point it out as a distraction.) Then she'd noticed the way he'd paused for too long after she asked what he'd been about to say.

Maybe it was just her imagination.

It had been a long time since she'd had friends anyway, since she had ever gotten back into the process that was making friends and getting to know people. Jess wouldn't have been surprised if she was just over-analyzing or misreading things... But part of her felt like she had learned enough about Damian to spot when something was off or different in his behavior, even if it was minuscule.

_What's on your mind?_

Her mouth opened just as he spoke up from beside her, saying, "I still owe you one question."

Brows raising, she turned to him and readjusted her seated position—sitting on shingles wasn't as comfortable as she thought it'd be—and asked, "Are you talking about that one day at the diner?"

Damian nodded once, yet Jess couldn't find it in herself to crack a joke or poke fun at him. There was a serious sort of gleam in his eyes, warmed by the sunlight that was fading beyond the horizon. His dark hair, if she looked hard enough, was almost a dark brown in the light instead of the usual black.

He looked away. "Despite everything that brought you here... will you miss Gotham when you leave?"

The question seemed to sink into her mind, slowly, as she processed his words and never removed her gaze from him. Damian's profile, as perfect as it was, was outlined by the dark orange sky, which contrasted nicely with those broody, green eyes of his.

_"You ever seen a more perfect nose on a human being before?" _Misty had once said about Damian, which had made Jess snort and roll her eyes.

The answer, of course, was no—she was probably never going to admit that to him—and this fleeting, random memory only brought up mental images of the first time she'd ever laid eyes on him.

She recalled when they'd met in that library, how embarrassingly smitten she'd been by his good looks, how taken aback she'd felt due to his disinterested and emotionless personality... And then he'd invited her over for dinner after she managed to beat him at air hockey, effectively paving the way for what was now an unexpected friendship that she was grateful for.

Gratitude. That's basically what they'd just been talking about, right?

Jess was grateful... for having met Damian, even Misty, for finding people who could put up with her; for having such a doable punishment here in Gotham in spite of often feeling like she deserved worse; for managing to (somewhat) get back on track for a more normal life. At least, one that was better than what she'd been living before.

But certainly, as she sat on that rooftop with her friend, sharing a blanket across their shoulders, she knew she was most thankful for and appreciative of the bond they'd developed. Jess would have been naive to think she ever really felt at her "best" unless he was around. She'd never really put much thought into it until now: as much effort and time it took to get used to his strange temperament and personality, she _liked_ being around Damian. She enjoyed his presence, even if they weren't doing anything special, just making food, watching a corny movie, grabbing coffee... Somehow, he'd found her worthy of a friend—exactly what Dick had told her the other day, and Misty just today—and managed, whether intentionally or not, to make her feel... like she was _okay_.

Like she mattered.

No, he didn't always entertain her dumb jokes, and he usually had a supply of glares and eye-rolls for her, but none of that had ever felt wrong or like it was done with ill intent. And maybe sometimes Jess felt like he wasn't quite understanding her or that he was a bit behind in his social skills, but that was just Damian, wasn't it?

He had to know she'd grown to care about him, and if there was anything she'd learned these past few months, he cared about her, too.

"I don't believe I'll be leaving Gotham anytime soon, but if I did... I'm not entirely sure I would miss it," Damian was saying, his voice quieter and reflecting the look of contemplation on his face. After a brief moment of hesitation, he added, "Too many memories, good and bad, have been made here."

Jess waited patiently, wondering if he was going to go on and explain what he meant. What sort of negative experiences was he talking about? Would he talk about them now, later, or maybe not at all? Damian looked at her then, his eyes unreadable, and said nothing; she took this as her cue, a sign that he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Yeah... I think I will," she answered. "And I think part of that is because... well, you already know. I don't look forward to going back home."

Lately, if she'd let herself think too much about returning to Central City, the anxiety and apprehension began to eat away at her, forcing the teen to find ways to distract herself from the eventual reality. Part of that meant depending more often on stardust to the point that she was using more than she'd been at first, watching her doses less often because it didn't matter as long as it made her forget what she soon had to face. It was making it difficult to remember to stay off of it when she was with Damian, frankly... and she never had to use it when she was with him.

_There's a reason you don't use it when he's around, isn't there?_ a voice seemed to taunt her in her conscience.

"I'll miss what the city looks like at night," she found herself saying as she stared out into the dark tree line, "and the coffee from that one diner." She paused, thinking carefully as she fell into a state of reminiscing and going on to voice her thoughts aloud.

"The arcade, too. I definitely won't forget kicking your butt—and Misty's—at air hockey. Mmm... I won't miss the library, that's for sure, though I do miss having you around to tell me what I did wrong... I'll miss the walks we went on around Robinson Park and watching you unintentionally intimidate people with the way you talk to them.

"Er, what else? I'll definitely miss your cooking and Alfred's... the theater room, telling your dad when I've made you smile or laugh. Believe it or not, I might miss your overpriced car—oh, speaking of that, your stellar driving lessons and all the driving you did for me. Five stars. Uhh, I guess I'll also miss..."

Her voice trailed off as soon as she looked up and saw that Damian's eyes, though they rarely widened in shock, were filled with something a lot like it as he practically gawked at her. But this wasn't the same as the look he'd given earlier before ultimately saying "Nothing." This was that very same look but intensified, like she'd said something that had thrown him entirely off-guard if such a thing was even possible for Damian Wayne.

The expression looked odd on his face, like it wasn't supposed to be on someone who was typically so collected.

Worry and tension crept into her nerves, making Jess's body feel cold. "Uh, Damian...?"

Had she said something wrong? Trying not to panic, she quickly ran through everything she'd said, looking for whatever it was that might have triggered his bizarre response.

_"I do miss having you around to tell me what I did wrong... I'll miss the walks we went on around Robinson Park and watching you unintentionally intimidate people with the way you talk to them... I'll definitely miss your cooking and Alfred's... the theater room, telling your dad when I've made you smile or laugh..."_

... Oh.

_Oh._

The thread was a simple one, a line that weaved all her words together in a pattern she hadn't noticed until now, and they were tied by a knot that was a single word:

_You._

She'd started naming off things she would miss, not thinking too hard about it at all, but then they had all turned into memories and things that were connected and had one common factor.

And that common factor was still staring at her with eyes that seemed to penetrate her walls and suddenly make her feel vulnerable. Were they glistening in the lowering sunset or was that also her imagination again?

Hurriedly, Jess said, "Uh, well, I guess it's pretty obvious that what I meant to say was..." Her throat closed up without warning, but she fought against it for the sake of not sounding like she was getting choked up.

"I'll miss you, of course."

The crooked, half-smile she gave him felt only partially genuine, and now there was a stinging behind her eyes. _Why do I feel like a mess all of a sudden?_ She needed to do something quickly to hide it—Jess shifted herself a few more inches closer to him then leaned her head against his shoulder, facing the sunset.

Her eyes remained on the last of the sun while it dipped below the trees as if the darkened, bluish clouds were chasing it downward. The sky barely had traces of orange and pink now, the night beginning to settle in above them. The air had fallen colder, seeping through her clothing and prompting her to pull the blanket further around her shoulder and drape it over her exposed legs.

His cologne, as familiar to her as her own hands, touched her nose briefly, calming her a little through the unexpected turbulence she was feeling.

She had no idea why her heart was suddenly hurting now, sending ache throughout her chest. There was no immediate answer to how things had taken this turn, why the thought of leaving Gotham made her throat tighten, why her soul was just now discovering her attachment to this place. It didn't help that the warm figure next to her was moving until Jess could feel him resting his own head against hers, the softness of his cheek pressing on top of her head.

It was at this moment that she was glad that it was becoming much darker now; Damian wouldn't see the warm tears falling freely down her face as they remained side-by-side on the roof, bound together by more than the blanket they shared.

_I'll miss you most of all._

* * *

**Note: **hope you enjoyed this update! this was kind of lengthy, but i wanted to highlight how Jess's summer in Gotham is coming to an end and what kind of progress she's made in her friendships, which also showed her and Damian pretty much realizing how close they've gotten. (of course, he didn't even admit out loud that he'd miss her... *sigh*)

this chapter and the last few have been feeling kind of fluffy and slow, but things will be picking up pretty soon, i promise :)

thank you all for reading! xx


	23. A Good Friend

_"'Cause I got everything right here_

_If I just open my eyes..._  
_Yeah, I want to be better,_  
_But somehow I keep falling apart again..._  
_I just wish you knew how, how hard I try_  
_It never gets easier to work things out_  
_All I want is to find the peace inside_  
_Yeah, all I want is you to feel alright"_

_~ Rnla & yaeow, "Try to Be Better (Again)"_

* * *

**Chapter 23: A Good Friend**

Damian Wayne hated being late.

Even more, he hated when others were late... and today, that happened to be Jess. Usually, she tended to be more punctual, especially having learned that he was a meticulous and timely person, but at the moment, it was nearly ten minutes past three in the afternoon, and Damian's patience was wearing thin.

After quickly parking in the lot of the arena building he'd taken her to nearly two weeks ago, he made his way inside. The rink was relatively busy today, ice skaters moving at different speeds and sounds of chatter and blades accompanying the pop music that was playing on the speakers. His gaze landed on the girl who was performing a sit spin—he'd learned the term after she'd enthusiastically shared some of her old videos with him—in the center of the rink. As he headed down the stairs, Jess came out of the spin and straightened up, grinning at a figure who was approaching her across the ice.

Damian hadn't been aware that she was here with someone. That particular someone was... a young man he'd never seen before. Analytical skills kicking in, Damian took in the blond locks that fell over the shaved, brunette roots in the back, the long-sleeved t-shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the lollipop stick hanging from his mouth, and the sly expression on the stranger's sharp features as he returned Jess's grin, saying something to her that earned her laugh.

Green eyes narrowing, the former assassin made his way to the bottom of the stairs and then to the edge of the rink, wondering how long it would take for her to notice his presence.

It was only a moment or two. Her eyes fell onto him across the rink, the laughter morphing into realization before she glanced at her watch, then said something to the young man beside her. She skated effortlessly towards the entry door near Damian, her friend following closely behind.

"Sorry!" she told him, heading towards the benches and lockers further away where she'd locked away her belongings.

Damian said nothing, following her and feeling her friend's eyes on him. He didn't return the look, keeping his own eyes on the girl who was scrambling to open the locker and pull her sneakers out.

"I completely lost track of time," she was saying as she quickly unlaced her skates and pulled them off. Her hazel eyes turned towards Damian, filled with sheepishness and apology.

"That's unlike you," he simply said, arms crossed as he stood and watched the two of them. The blond-haired teen wasn't as much in a rush as she was. He must have been their age as well, but Damian was still trying to determine whether he had seen him anywhere before.

Jess shoved her feet into her slip-on sneakers, not looking at him. "I know, sorry. Oh... by the way," she stood and gestured with her hands. "Um, Damian, this is Kade. Kade, Damian."

The other young man stood from the bench, offering a hand out to him. "Nice to finally meet you," he said, the lollipop stick shifting between his lips.

Cool, gray-blue eyes appraised him, unreadable in the fluorescent lighting above them. He must have been a mere few inches taller than Damian, who could tell Kade was comparably fit underneath his clothing—not quite enough to indicate he did sports but rather, he likely worked out every now and then. Something about him reminded him a little bit of Jason when he'd been younger and around the same age: rugged, always smirking if not glaring, carrying himself with aloofness.

And Damian wasn't sure he liked it.

The handshake was firm. Damian pulled his hand back and crossed his arms again. He couldn't help the faint iciness in his tone when he replied, "I could say the same, but Jessica has never mentioned you."

Kade's brows shot up in response, gaze splitting between him and Jess, who was giving them a smile that was tinted with embarrassment.

"I... was going to get to that. Eventually." Jess ducked her head as she proceeded to put the guards on her skates (she was most likely blushing), Kade's gaze landing back on Damian briefly before he held his hand out to her.

She handed the skates to him with a grateful smile then headed back towards the stairs and out the front doors. Damian found himself making a mental note of the gesture as the three of them walked silently across the parking lot. _She gave them, wordlessly, to him like it was something they often did. _Jess stopped at the Aston Martin just as Damian unlocked it. Beside her, Kade was letting out a low whistle.

Eyes running over the vehicle, he asked, "Damn. How much you pay a month for this thing?"

"Nothing. It's been paid off," Damian responded flatly.

"Oh. Right. 'Cause..." the other teen gestured towards him with a grin. At the raised brow Damian gave him, Kade shook his head and quickly added, "Never mind."

What did that mean?

During the awkward exchange, Jess had been getting situated in the passenger seat, her door still open. Kade was about to approach her, her skates tied together by the laces and still hanging in his hand, when Damian held his hand out. The blond-haired teen handed them over, something glinting in his gaze. Once the skates were sitting in the backseat and Damian was rounding the car to get to the driver's side, he was aware of Kade's blond head bending down towards Jess at the other side.

He was gone by the time Damian was seated, Jess shutting her door and buckling her seatbelt. There was a lollipop stick between her lips now, confirming his suspicions.

Gaze flickering to his rearview mirror, where Kade's figure was retreating and disappearing into a row of vehicles, Damian said, "How does he know who I am?"

_But I don't know who he is?_

"I mean... everyone knows who you are, don't they?" Jess frowned, glancing over at him and reaching up to twirl the stick in her mouth. "He goes to Gotham Academy. I figured maybe you would recognize him, he's going to be a senior this year."

"You know I never paid that much attention to my peers."

"Oh. Well..."

"But that's not what I meant. How does he know about me... as your friend... yet you have never mentioned him before?"

Jess looked out of the windshield as he pulled out into the street, quiet for a few seconds. "It never really came up I guess."

"It never occurred to you to tell me you're seeing someone?"

He could feel her surprised, hazel gaze locking onto him, but he kept his own eyes on the road.

"Um... I didn't really think you'd care."

Damian shot her a perturbed look, to which she added, "Because you're... you know... _you_. Which is fine, I wasn't all that worried about you knowing." Her hand flew up in a casual wave as she sank down in her seat to become more comfortable.

He continued driving, neither of them speaking and the radio playing softly in the background. She didn't think he would care? He couldn't explain why, but the thought prodded at him, annoyingly. Had they not come to some implicit agreement that they would be open, honest, and share things with one another to a certain extent? Surely getting into a relationship with someone was something she would tell him and vice versa.

Or so he'd thought.

"I do care, Jessica," he spoke up.

She didn't say anything, spinning the lollipop stick in her mouth.

"Does he treat you well?"

"Yeah," she answered, voice quiet. "He does."

Despite his first impression of Kade and how confident Damian was in his own reading, he knew he couldn't disregard what she was telling him. As long as the young man wasn't a complete idiot, then Damian could fare with that.

_Good._

"It's not serious anyway," Jess was continuing on, "considering I'll be gone in a few weeks... so it's not like we are officially together or anything. It's more of... a temporary thing."

Damian had never been one of those teenagers who had flings with other girls, knowing there was an expiration date; he'd only ever truly dated someone and called her his significant other, girlfriend. The boundary-less, gray areas that other teens and adolescents tried out were nothing but undesirable to someone like him who preferred clear lines and expectations. What compelled his friend to go through with this undefined "relationship" with Kade, he didn't know, but he supposed it had something to do with her wanting to do almost anything she could before going home to Central City. Another one of her "little things"?

Memories of that night on the manor's roof had lingered in the back of his mind the last few days. It had felt nothing short of some kind of revelation: prior to then, he had never given it much thought that his friend was leaving and how it would affect him. Perhaps Damian had gotten comfortable enough that he nearly forgot she was only in Gotham for the summer.

Or perhaps he'd refused to acknowledge that she would be gone soon, and it wasn't until that time watching the sunset that he was forced to face it, that he would miss Jess.

And if that hadn't been enough to process, she had stunned him with her list of things she would miss, all connected or relating to their friendship and what they'd built over the past months. Not many things could faze Damian, but he'd certainly had some trouble collecting himself in those moments.

_"I'll miss you, of course."_

Even now, her words seemed to burn in in his brain, sending something bittersweet through him.

"Damian?"

Her voice jolted him from his thoughts. Damian glanced over at her, seeing her appraising him with a single raised brow.

"You take a nap there for a second?"

"No," he answered as he looked back out at the road. "I was trying to recall if I'd already run an errand for Alfred. What were you saying?"

"I was saying you've never really talked about your own love life. Are you just not interested in dating right now or you haven't found anyone yet?"

Damian gave a shrug. "The former. I refuse to use any of those redundant dating apps, and I already limit my social interactions with the outside world, as you already know. Perhaps that would be different if I'd decided to attend Gotham University."

She seemed to think for a brief moment before saying, "That sounds reasonable, but I am a little surprised you didn't meet anyone at the library or even the animal clinic. 'Cause that'd mean she likes reading or animals, which are both pluses in my opinion."

He couldn't argue with her on that.

"But hey, maybe there's someone cute at this movie theater we can link you up with," Jess was adding, tossing him a light grin.

"I sincerely hope that's a joke."

"Kind of, not really. We'd be checking off one of the things on my list plus doing something for you. Killing two birds with one stone, right?"

"The probability of us accomplishing that is low." Slowing to a stop at a red light, Damian looked over and gave her a mild glare. "Besides, I have no interest in seeing someone right now."

_I am not in the position to try and handle another relationship among the ones I have now._

"Alright, alright, I was just teasing you... Would you be open to hanging out with Kade?"

The question felt sudden, making him meet her eyes and see the hesitation in them. "What would 'hanging out with Kade' entail exactly?"

"Well, Misty would most likely be with us anyway. I was just thinking it'd be nice for all of us to do something together at least once before I leave, especially now that you've met him..."

He'd gotten so used to spending time with Jess, just the two of them, and the idea of having that space invaded by someone he'd found out by accident felt... wrong. There had only been a few other times when Misty had been around, usually because Damian had been picking up or dropping off Jess to her, so that didn't quite count.

"I would consider it."

Beside him, she was smiling. "Cool. I know socializing isn't really your thing, so even you just considering it is nice of you."

Though he did not respond to that, he already knew that—despite his answer—he would take the opportunity to spend time with her, regardless of her other friends' presences and how the idea made him feel.

Because they didn't have a lot of that time left.

* * *

He was changing out of his Robin gear when his ears picked up the faint sound of his phone buzzing nearby. Wincing at an ache in his upper back, Damian walked slowly over to it, his interest piqued at the name that had appeared on the screen. What was she doing awake at this time of night?

"Jessica."

"Uh, no, it's actually Misty," the voice came through, battling with an awful ruckus that sounded like pop music and laughter in the background.

Straightening up in alertness, Damian inquired, "Where is she?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm looking at her right now, but... ah, I think you need to come get her."

He closed his eyes momentarily, taking a moment to breathe in and out of his nose. _Of course._ She must have been inebriated again, and though it'd been some time since he'd picked her up from Robinson Park, he had been hoping she'd been partying less. Many times, he'd wanted to seek her out on patrol or track her whereabouts to make sure of this, but a voice in the back of his head would never fail to remind him that he shouldn't.

Because he had to... trust her.

"Alright. What is the addr—?"

"Jess! Where are you going? Dude, I told you to stay right here,"—there was a disruptive, shuffling noise—"No, you cannot have another one... Damian. Yes. He's coming to pick you up, so you have to stay—"

"Misty."

"I'll text it to you, just hurry. Please. She needs to be put to bed—Jess! I swear if you throw up on—"

Brows furrowing, Damian ended the call and finished changing as quickly as he could despite how much his muscles were complaining. Tonight's patrol had been particularly taxing, especially since he had gone out with the intent to expel some negative energy and frustration. Luckily, he and his father had set out on a lead for stardust, the newest drug that Commissioner Gordon had recently brought to their attention—the goal to collect information had given him opportunities to rough up several goons here and there.

But now that he had to go fetch his friend from another night of bad decisions, the former assassin was even more eager to climb into bed and sleep it all away.

The party was located in a neighborhood near Gotham Academy, so the houses were especially large with expansive property. It wasn't difficult to spot the home in question; several cars were parked along the street and in the driveway, the windows flashing with colored lights, and a faint thumping reaching his car from less than a hundred feet away. Several teens were outside, some sprawled drunkenly across the lawn or huddled in groups with drinks in their hands. A few of them took notice of Damian as he approached the front door, but he ignored them as he looked down at his phone to text Misty—who still had Jess's phone—that he was on site.

_Wait inside front door please, we'll come to you,_ she wrote.

He felt out of place, admittedly, standing just inside the open doorway with his arms crossed, watching partygoers bustle to and fro. The kitchen to the right was littered with drink packages and teens who were enthusiastically drawing up concoctions in plastic cups, and to his left, a large living room was filled with the same teens drinking from the same cups. A few pairs of eyes here and there landed on him, widening in curiosity or recognition. The bass that shook the home was mildly annoying, yet he remained (somewhat) patient, eyes scanning the area for a familiar, brunette teen or her friend.

_Never mind can you come to the backyard?_ Misty then texted him, eliciting a sigh from him.

Weaving through bodies, Damian made it to the backyard where there were teens splashing around in a pool or sitting at the edge with their feet stuck in. Others stood around or sat on the patio furniture, laughing and chattering over the music. There was a shriek as someone tossed a fully-clothed girl into the water, earning laughs from nearby.

"Damian!"

Misty was at one end of the backyard, standing near a small cluster of dancing bodies. As he approached her, he realized one of those bodies was Jess, who was dressed in a white, cropped tank top and jeans, one arm slung around another girl and the other up in the air, a cup in her hand. The look on Misty's face was one of relief, which was a little amusing to Damian.

"Thank god," she greeted him, turning to gesture towards Jess. The teen was bouncing left and right to the beat-heavy pop song that had just begun playing. "She really doesn't want to leave, so good luck."

Green eyes ran over her as Damian contemplated the best way to remove Jess from the premises. Blunt force was an option but certainly not appropriate...

Reaching out, he plucked the cup from Jess's raised hand, causing her to stop dancing and glance around. Her drunken gaze landed on him, and instead of acknowledging the disappearance of her drink, she beamed with excitement he'd never seen on her before.

"Dami!"

No longer paying attention to the people she'd been dancing with, Jess reached out with her arms and nearly stumbled into him. One hand holding the cup away and the other catching her as she hit his chest, Damian looked over at Misty. She wore an expression on her face that said "Yikes" as she took the drink from him and set it down.

"Whatareyoudoinghere," Jess drawled, her arms wrapped loosely around his body as she looked up at him. "Oooh, will you dance with me?"

"Jessica—"

She was stepping away now, both her hands tugging at his forearm towards the crowd she'd left.

"We're leaving," Damian told her firmly, brows knitting together as he pulled her towards him, trying to be gentle.

"Onedancepleeeease..."

"No."

"One song?"

"_No_."

"Mistyyy..." She turned towards her friend, who shook her head vigorously.

"Don't 'Misty' me, Jess. You heard the man. It's time to go."

Jess adopted an exaggerated slouch then, the corners of her mouth turning down into a frown. Her bloodshot, hazel eyes met Damian's as she answered, "Fine. Butyouowemeadance... one day."

_This is embarrassing._

He could feel the eyes of several partygoers around them, watching the exchange. Not that he cared that people likely recognized him and were wondering about his presence at such a social event, but he was more concerned about his friend who was, in his opinion, making a fool of herself.

"Do you need a ride home as well?" he asked Misty, starting to grow impatient.

She handed what must have been Jess's phone to him before tilting her chin at the girl, who was starting to bob to the music again. "I'm fine. Just worry about this one."

"Why did she not return to the facility before curfew?"

Misty threw her hands up exasperatedly. "No idea. I tried convincing her to not come, but she obviously didn't listen, so I figured I'd tag along in case—" Looking at Jess, she gestured towards her. "Well, in case _this_ happened."

"Thanks. Let's go, Jessica," was all he said, grasping his friend's arm and gently—but with enough force necessary for a girl who wasn't walking in a straight line—tugging her back inside the house.

So she had deliberately chosen to attend another party and break the facility's curfew... for what reason?

Jess wouldn't stop trying to speak to people they passed or was constantly veering off course, so Damian was maintaining a firm grip on her arm. She was walking alright on her own, though her balance was clearly off and he'd had to steady her when she'd walked into a standing table in the hallway. By the time they made it across the front yard and to his car, she was spouting nonsense about the trimmed bushes that lined the driveway.

"Damian..."

He was pulling out onto the street now after having helped her into her seat and buckled her in. (That was when he'd noticed that her tank top had a few orange liquid stains on it—he could only imagine it was from some alcoholic beverage.) Jess was slouched, her head laid back against the headrest.

"You should come next time... Itsalotoffun."

"Our opinions differ in what's 'fun,' Jessica."

"But you have fun when we... hangoutright?" Her head rolled to the side as she faced him, her eyes half-closed as she looked at him.

Damian's eyes remained on the dark road. _She'll be passing out soon. _"Yes, I do."

The ridiculous comments and questions went on for the remaining drive back to Wayne Manor, which was not long considering he had gone slightly over the speed limit; he was eager to get her into bed, safe and—hopefully—asleep.

A few minutes passed in silence, making him wonder if she'd finally knocked out. But just as he stole a glance towards her, seeing Jess's face turned to the window, she was speaking again.

"Where are we going?"

"Where would you like to go?"

He was curious about what sort of answer she would give, considering her current condition. People tended to be honest and unfiltered when under the influence.

"Home."

Damian was silent, eyes still on the empty road before him, the tree lines thickening as they traveled further into Gotham's outskirts. _Home_. So she wanted to return to Central City, did she? That seemed a little unusual—just earlier this week, she'd said the exact opposite. Had she changed her mind?

"Are we... going home?" she asked, facing him again. Though he wasn't looking at her, he could feel her drunken, hazel gaze on him. "I hope we don't wake up Bruce or Alfred."

It was at that moment that Damian realized he'd misunderstood her again.

Had she just...?

He found himself unable to respond, still processing what she had said.

Jess didn't say anything more, and once he'd driven onto the property and parked in front of the manor, he saw why. Her eyes were closed when he opened her door, body limp as he scooped her out of the seat and headed towards the front door. He took her to the same bedroom she'd slept in the first that day she'd been hungover, laying her across the bed and tossing a blanket over her figure. After setting her phone, a glass of water, and painkillers on the bedside table, Damian took a moment to look at his sleeping friend whose hair was spread across the pillow, looking as peaceful as he'd ever seen her.

_You really feel like this is home?_

In his mind's eye, he saw the first time he'd brought her over, when she'd met Titus, the movies they'd played in the theater, his mini tour of the library where he showed her his favorite and despised books... He recalled the day she'd come over unannounced and offered him comfort when he'd thought he didn't need it, how well she got along with his father and Alfred, and all the times she and Dick had both poked fun at him together. She'd certainly spent much time here at the manor, and Damian had always attributed that to her desire to be away from the facility and perhaps even the library.

Never would he have guessed she would eventually call it a home.

She was shifting around as he crossed the room to leave, and that was when he heard a groggy "Damian?"

It was dark after he'd turned off the lamp on the bedside table, and he highly doubted she'd be able to make out his figure, so he said, "I'm here."

A heavy sigh left Jess, and then she was mumbling almost unintelligibly—Damian barely made out what she'd said: "You're a good friend."

The words hung in the air as her breathing slowed, telling him she had fallen back asleep. They seemed to grow, swelling and enveloping him in that warmth he had only grown to know when they had become friends. But then Damian quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him as her sentiment hung on to his retreating figure.

* * *

The beeping sound started out faint, slithering into the corners of her sleeping mind, but then it grew louder, pulling her rudely from slumber. At the same time, her head felt heavy and thick with a familiar, throbbing headache.

Wrenching her eyes open, Jess shut them again at the sun that was rising and peeking through the blinds of the window in front of her. The alarm was still going off, so she stuck her hand out and fumbled around until it found the shape of a phone. She squinted down at the screen, silencing it and seeing that it was eight in the morning.

Why on earth was the alarm—?

_Oh shit._

Mild panic seared through her as she took in her surroundings—wait, she knew this room—and attempted to recall what had happened. Hadn't she been at a party with Misty? Why wasn't she in her own bed?

As the questions flooded in, she noticed the bedside table where a glass of water and two pills were waiting patiently. After taking a moment to take them, wincing at the throbbing in her temple, she made effort to stand up and try to keep her balance. The room felt like it was spinning a little, which was no good at all.

_Wait… why was my alarm going off again?_

One glance at her phone screen told her it was Saturday, meaning she needed to meet Erin.

A string of curse words fell from her mouth as she made her way to the bathroom across the hall. The girl looking back at her in the mirror looked exhausted with slight traces of smudged mascara and tangled hair. She was still wearing the same outfit from last night, the stains on her top way too obvious to be hidden without just changing into something else entirely.

_Well, apparently, you had some fun last night, huh?_ a voice in her head taunted.

Damian. She had to go find him and let him know she needed to get to the diner as quickly as possible—there was no time for going back to the facility at this point, so maybe…

Anxiety and panic-stricken thoughts coursed through her as she desperately tried to comb her fingers through her hair, then gave up. Opening the door, in a hurry to go to Damian's room, Jess smacked right into something tall and solid.

On any other day when she hadn't been hungover, maybe she'd been able to react quickly enough to avoid literally walking into her friend, but today was not that day. It felt like hitting a brick wall, and she saw, then felt, him raise his hands to steady her after the clumsy collision.

"Are you okay?"

Green eyes narrowed with concern looked her up and down as she tried to collect herself. He was dressed in a black shirt and chinos, looking freshly showered judging by the dampness of his dark hair and the lingering, fresh scent of his cologne.

"I'm fine. Jesus, you scared the shit out of me."

"I was coming to check on you. You were still asleep an hour ago." He glanced over into the guest room that she'd slept in. "Did you take the painkillers?"

Grimacing a little at a shock of pain going through her head, Jess answered with a dismissive hand, "Yeah, I did, thank you. I'm guessing you picked me up last night?"

"Misty called me."

"Of course she did," she couldn't help mumbling, reaching up to rub her temples.

"Do you not remember?"

"Not really..."

"What _do_ you remember?"

"Uh..." Jess gave a lazy shrug. "Going to Kade's house for this party with Misty, drinking, um, more than I'd initially planned." It was a mistake to look up at him—the sternness in his eyes made her break eye contact. "I vaguely recall you showing up, I guess, but it's just a blur after that.

"Listen, Damian, I'm supposed to meet my probation officer pretty soon, and…"

She looked down at herself and her outfit, trying to find the words to describe her messy state.

"I'll find you something to wear," he told her without hesitation, taking a few steps down the hall. But then the older teen paused, giving her another glance, and added, "And a hair brush," before continuing on his way.

Frowning, Jess went back into the guest room and reached for the glass of water. That was when she suddenly remembered the small baggy in the back pocket of her jeans, sending relief and then worry washing through her. Just a little bit of the recreational drug would definitely pick her up and make her feel better within the hour…

_But Damian… No, I won't even be with him when it kicks in_, she rationalized to herself as she stared at the glass.

_Except I'll be with Erin, and it's possible she might notice something. But as long as I just use a little bit..._

Several moments of internal debate passed—this was too much to try and think so hard about—until the glittering, white crystals fell into the water. Downing it as quickly as her hungover self could, Jess saw movement at the door and immediately turned towards Damian as he entered. The empty glass hit the bedside table with a little more force than she'd intended, but he didn't seem to notice while approaching her with a piece of clothing.

"I thought we might have some old clothing from Cassandra or Stephanie, but I couldn't find anything. This should do," he was saying.

The shirt in question was navy blue and long-sleeved, though Jess didn't really care what it was as long as it wasn't her stained top. Taking it and the brush he'd also brought, she shut herself into the bathroom and hurriedly tried to look more presentable. The shirt smelled like him—_It must be his,_ she thought—and her brunette locks were looking less gross after taking the brush to them. After tucking the long shirt into her jeans, which luckily didn't have any stains, Jess crossed the hallway back to the guest room.

Damian was standing in front of the bedside table, his back towards her. Jess checked her phone, relieved to see she still had time. If they left now, she'd probably be a few minutes early still.

"I'm ready," she announced, pulling the sleeves up to her elbows and pocketing her phone. "Is it okay if I leave my top in your car so I don't have to take it inside with me? Or here. Doesn't matter to me."

She was met with silence as she watched his unmoving back.

"Dami?"

Jess's gaze landed on the bed where one of the pillows was within reach. Maybe she could throw one at him..?

"Hello? Earth to Damian Wayne," she tried again, stepping forward a few feet to stop next to him and try to see his face.

But then he was turning around, and that was when she realized he was holding something, looking down at it. The familiar baggy was dangling between his fingers, nearly empty except for just a gram that she'd left for later. The crystals sparkled in the bedroom light, tiny and delicate, like they were jeering at her.

No expletive would have been perfect enough to accompany the shocking alarm that flooded her body, rooting her in place as she struggled to look between his face and the clear bag.

His face.

Had she ever seen this expression on him before? It was eerily calm, the way the green irises stared right back, gripping her—she didn't think she could budge if she wanted to. But they glittered almost dangerously with something intense, bold, and... daunting. His glare was slight but it was there, and it felt both heated and cold at the same time if that were even possible.

Maybe ten seconds passed, maybe thirty or even a whole minute, but Jess couldn't find it in herself to speak or move. And then his mouth, which had been set in a hard line, was opening.

"What is this?"

Cold. His tone was so _cold_ yet oddly quiet and controlled.

It only made her more anxious.

"I..."

Nothing. _Try again._

"It's..."

The air seemed to have vanished from her lungs, and her brain refused to function beyond standing there with her mouth half-open. _Say something, you idiot._

The expression on Damian's face didn't change. "Jessica."

His saying her name seemed to undo her frozen state. Swallowing hard, throat suddenly dry, she then answered, "N-nothing. It's just—It's trash. It's j-just trash."

_Damn it._ Of course she was stuttering now, and it was clear by the way his gaze narrowed just the slightest bit that he didn't believe her.

"You were drinking trash?"

He picked up the empty glass, holding it up to show the remaining stardust at the bottom that hadn't been diluted or made it to her mouth. With one brow raised, he set it back down on the table and looked back up at her.

Heart racing and body temperature rising, Jess shook her head. "No, it's one of those vitamin C things, you know? You add it to your water, and it tastes like... like strawberry or..." She couldn't finish her sentence, not when those emerald greens were boring into her.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't lie to my face," he deadpanned, holding up the bag again. His words sent something hot and uncomfortable through Jess, making her clench her teeth. "Why are you using stardust?"

"So you do know what it is." Her tone was flat as she stood there, tearing her gaze from the bag and instead staring at Damian.

"Do you know how dangerous this can be?"

"I... I barely use it, okay?" Jess swallowed again, vaguely aware of the tightness forming in her throat that made her sound quieter than she wanted. "I'm just... trying it out."

"There is no 'trying it out,' Jessica," he responded. "You either use it or you don't. When did you—when did you start this?"

Annoyance shot through her nerves. "What's it to you? Why are you asking so many questions?" Jess stepped forward and tried to snatch the bag from him, but Damian was quicker.

He pulled his hand out of reach and then set the bag down on the bedside table next to him. Crossing his arms, he leveled her with another stare that only fueled the growing frustration she was experiencing.

What was up with him? Did he really care so much that she was trying out a recreational drug that was practically harmless?

She decided to ask.

"It's harmless, Damian. Why does it matter? I've been dealing with a lot of anxiety and nightmares and—and having a hard time concentrating, so I figured I'd give it a try." Sweeping a hand over herself, Jess added, "I'm still here, it hasn't done anything to me."

He gave her an eye-roll, and his brows furrowed with obvious irritation, deepening that glare. "Yet," he corrected. "It hasn't done anything _yet._ Regardless, this is incredibly foolish, even for you."

Jess's brows shot up, his words biting at her. "Even for me?" she echoed. "What's that supposed to mean? It's recreational. Everyone I know is doing it."

"Misty?"

That stopped her.

Damian's eyes glinted. "If not Misty, who else? Kade?"

She remained silent, jaw working as the blood pounded in her ears and the heat in her body starting to overwhelm her. There was no way she would tell him Kade had been the one to introduce the drug to her.

"What's your point?" she challenged. "It's not like it's cocaine or something."

He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing.

Letting out a deep breath, Jess shook her head and held her hands up in defeat. "Think all you want, Damian. It's not that big of a deal, and you treating me like a kid isn't going to make me stop."

"I'm not treating you like a child, but if you act like one—"

"I am _not_ acting like anything. You're the one who has a huge problem with me doing stardust. I told you why I do it, so you should just... leave it alone. Not that it's any of your business anyway."

He lowered his hand, and his eyes opened once again, alight with annoyance. "It's my business because it is my job as a friend to tell you when you're being stupid. And you are."

"Whatever. That's your opinion. This is how I choose to deal with things, and... you can't control that."

Damian pressed his lips together in displeasure then glanced out the window. His chest rose and fell quickly, like he was trying to calm himself. Jess almost didn't notice that his fists in his crossed arms were balled tightly.

"Can we please just let this go? I'm going to be late."

A long, long minute passed before his eyes landed on her again. The way his jaw was set so stubbornly almost made it seem like he'd never be able to open it again. "Throw it away and we can leave."

The air seemed to whoosh out of her lungs as her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "_What?_ Are you—? You can't be serious."

_No way he's actually doing this right now._

"I am."

And he definitely looked like he was: his hardened gaze never left her, emerald greens seeming to challenge her, saying, "Your move, Jess." Jess inhaled and exhaled as calmly as she could, though the breaths barely curbed her rising frustration.

She had to get out of there.

"Keep it," she then said in a shaky voice, stepping towards the bedroom door. "I'll call a cab."

With that, the teen spun on her heel and walked as quickly as she could from the room. Making her way downstairs, the growing urge to cry caught up to her, making her eyes sting. She almost didn't notice the figure on the staircase that she nearly ran into.

"Whoa there," the short-haired woman said, stepping back to smile at her. "Oh, you must be Jess..."

Her voice trailed off once she took in the look on the girl's face, Bruce also silent behind her on the stairs. The two of them wore mixed expressions of concern and surprise, which only made Jess feel worse. _Don't cry, don't cry,_ she urged herself as she mumbled an apology and hurried down to the first floor.

A single tear had managed to escape by the time she was outside, sitting at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door. Too many emotions were fighting inside her as she simply sat there, staring at the ground. Hastily wiping the wetness on her face away, Jess huffed out a deep breath and pulled out her phone, seeing that it was almost a quarter to nine. Yep, she was definitely going to be late. Wonderful.

Had the last several minutes really just happened? She'd never thought she would ever witness Damian so... _irritated_ and almost upset let alone be so adamant about his opinion. And the fact that he'd tried to bargain like that? It wasn't like she couldn't get more stardust from Kade, of course, so this wasn't much of a loss, but still—

"Jessica."

His voice had her looking up from her phone, but she refused to turn around.

"Let me take you to your meeting," he said. His tone was calm behind her, like nothing had happened.

"It's fine... I was just about to call for a cab," Jess managed to say through her tight throat, looking back down at her phone screen.

There was movement in the corner of her eye; he'd approached and stopped next to her. "Don't be ridiculous. It'll be past nine by the time they even arrive. We can get there in ten minutes if I drive."

With a tired sigh, she then looked up at him from her position on the steps. "Why do you—?"

His hand had extended down towards her, the bag of stardust hanging between his fingertips. Dark, green eyes looked at her carefully and expectantly while he stood there in silence.

Part of her wanted to stand her ground and move on with calling for a ride, but another wondered if this was her friend's way of calling a truce or apologizing. Whatever the case, all she knew was that her priority was getting to the diner as soon as possible.

Taking the bag from him, Jess stood up and dusted herself off. Damian wasted no time going back up the steps, and she followed after him, shoving the stardust back into her pocket. They were driving out of the garage in less than a minute, and their ride was silent, Jess sitting with her arms crossed, slumped in her seat and staring out the window. The tension was thick, nearly suffocating, and she found herself eager to get out once they arrived.

_Is there a reason you reacted that way?_

The whole ride should have been in silence, but as soon as Damian was pulling up to the sidewalk with the diner just fifty feet away, he was speaking.

"You've wanted nothing but to live a better life. Is this truly how you intend to spend your second chance?"

For the first time since they'd left the manor, he turned to look at Jess with eyes that felt like they were burning into her. Rigidity had taken over his body, tightening his knuckles on the wheel.

A voice in the back of her head reminded her she needed to get out of the car and hurry to the diner, but for some unnameable reason, she stayed put in the passenger seat. "I... I don't know," she tried to answer, sounding more exasperated than she'd meant. "I just need to. That's all I know."

"Well then, it looks like I was wrong."

Questioning, hazel eyes met sharp, green ones.

"Perhaps you don't deserve another chance."

His words sunk into her chest, sending astonishment through her. Jess worked to rip her gaze from his, staring into nothing beyond the windshield as her ears rang. For a long moment, it was hard to breathe, like the sentence had blocked her airways and wanted to make her struggle for air.

Closing her half-open mouth, she reached—more like fumbled—for the handle and opened the door. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as she shut it and started walking in the direction of the diner. Everything in her surroundings, the few Gothamites walking or biking around her, the partially-cloudy sky, the cool morning air, was part of another world, something completely detached from the one she had been thrown into.

A world of sudden, unexpected hurt, with Damian's words bouncing off the walls and echoing in her head and heart.

* * *

**Note: **well that definitely escalated quickly o.O lol hope you all enjoyed this one. i wasn't planning on updating twice in one week but i had a majority of this chapter written out ahead of time, so that helped a lot.

you guys are totally welcome to tell me what you think will happen or what you want to happen! i already have a bunch of things planned out anyway, but it'd be fun to hear what your expectations are, whether they are spot on with my plan or completely different hahaha.

btw, i'm corny as heck and listen to a specific playlist i have on Spotify when i'm writing for this fic. if any of you are curious to see what kind of chaotic songs help me write this equally-chaotic story, my username on there is "**mariahashlie**" and the playlist name is "**sadboi hours (for the most part)**" or i can send you a link if you want to just message me! there is a variety of genres in there, mostly pop, indie pop, indie/alternative, little bit of electronic, but as the name suggests, a number of the songs are sad and just depressing lol xD most of the song lyrics i've put at the beginning of these chapters come from this playlist, too. i'm always adding to it though, so the list is constantly growing.

anyway! thanks as always for the reviews, faves, and follows. until next update, where things continue to get wild ;)


	24. So Many Questions, So Few Answers

_"Tell me, am I wrong for this?_

_I never thought I'd fall for this_

_Tell me, am I wrong for this?_

_If I ever fell off track,_

_would you bring me right back?_

_I know you will"_

_~ Zachary Knowles, "city"_

* * *

**Chapter 24: So Many Questions, So Few Answers**

How could he have been so blind?

Everything was incredibly still. The only sounds were the faint whirring of the lab machinery before him, analyzing, assessing, working away. His eyes remained on the pinch of glittering, crystalline powder, though they were unseeing; instead, he was picturing familiar hazel irises as they narrowed at him in irritation. He saw them widen by a fraction at the words he'd spoken, filling with something that immediately sent regret into his bones. He saw her figure walking away quickly, felt the ache to get out and grab her arm. Make her stay. Make her understand.

But he'd only made her hurt.

How had he not seen the signs?

There was a resounding, short beep from somewhere behind him, a notification on the computer, followed by the lab machine shutting off as the process completed. But he stayed seated, elbows on the table with his clasped hands up to his nose, gaze still drilling into the substance in front of him.

_The most obvious, telltale signs of being under the influence of stardust include bloodshot eyes and/or dilated pupils, more hyper or relaxed behavior (depending entirely on the individual, dosage, and intent), heightened senses..._

He couldn't immediately recall any instance during which Jess had ever displayed anything that would have suggested she was using the drug. Did that mean she'd never consumed it when she was with him? Had she been careful enough not to use too much when she knew they'd be spending time together? Or was it possible that she'd been under the influence and had never exhibited these side effects?

_How could I not have known?_

Most importantly, why had she resorted to doing such a thing?

As if her gravitation toward drinking and underage parties hadn't been enough. Damian could only guess that her probation officer knew about her breaking the facility's curfew for the second time. She had also probably noticed that Jess looked out of sorts that morning, too. If he'd really wanted to, he could have dug up whatever update the woman had written on their meeting, seen what her response was and if Jess was facing consequences. Yet the only priority that had settled in Damian's mind that morning was determining how he'd fallen so short, why he had never noticed before.

Fourteen hours, zero calls, zero texts. In another reality, she would have told him herself what had come of her meeting anyway, but he hadn't heard from her at all. He hadn't reached out either, less than eager to be reminded of their unfortunate disagreement and focused instead on getting answers to the too many questions that had been living in his mind. Besides... he wasn't sure he was ready to face her.

Damian stood and made his way to the computer. The results from the lab test were displayed on the screen, the familiar chemical formula and data confirming his suspicions. Though he'd already been more than ninety percent sure the substance in that bag had been stardust, he'd had to make _absolute_ sure before doing anything serious. He'd needed to take an inconspicuous amount from it when she had stormed off earlier, returning it minutes later to appease her.

And he'd gotten what he wanted: confirmation that his friend was indeed using the very drug he and his father were attempting to get out of the hands of teens like her.

_Well... what's next?_

Eyes narrowing, Damian made his way to the main computer and logged in. A newfound sense of determination was growing in him, fueling the trained detective in him that was hungry for hard evidence, data, and answers. Within minutes, he had her phone records and locations pulled up as well as her recent card transactions... and this was the first time since he'd done so after he'd picked her up from Robinson Park—when Dick had preached about trusting your friends. _Tt_, he thought grimly at the memory, _that certainly didn't work in my favor._ His gaze skimmed quickly but efficiently, spotting familiar names of food places, texts and calls to his phone number and Misty's—

Wait.

There was a third phone number, one he didn't recognize. It didn't belong to her probation officer nor did it belong to her aunt. The image of a tall, blond young man popped into his mind's eye.

Kade. Despite his usual methods, Damian hadn't done any kind of background check on him after meeting him... all because he'd wanted to respect Jess's boundaries and trust her.

For all the good that had done.

His hand tightened into a fist as he clicked on then typed quickly on the keyboard. It was unlikely that Misty was involved in Jess's getting tangled up in stardust for too many reasons to name. (And that was why he was okay with her being Jess's friend.) Not only that, but Damian also hardly knew anything about this Kade. Could it be that the one person he hadn't vetted was his friend's connection to the drug?

About fifteen minutes passed, and the former assassin's immense glare was nearly burning the computer monitors. He knew everything about Kade Noor now as well as his family members and even some of his closest friends. More scouring, and Damian had been able to find something that gave evidence beyond reasonable doubt. Indignation was making its way through his body the longer he sat there, picturing the blond wearing that doltish grin and handing Jess a bag of stardust.

_I should have known._

Gritting his teeth, he got up and headed to the display case housing his suit. The mask seemed to stare back at him, begging to be worn and used to deliver what needed to be done.

Before he could open it, he heard footsteps. Alfred had entered the cave, his calm gaze resting on the younger Wayne.

"Master Damian. Heading out early?"

Looking back at the suit, Damian answered with his own question: "Is my father still busy in his office?"

"Yes, though he just requested to see you."

"Tell him I've left, and I can meet with him in an hour. Until then, I don't want any contact unless it's an emergency."

Alfred's lack of a response had the teen glancing over again, seeing the older man regarding him with a thoughtful, concerned look.

"As you wish," he finally said before turning on his heel and exiting the cave.

Damian took a deep breath, trying to shake off the interruption and remind himself what his plan was until his father met with him for patrol. The display case opened with a low, robotic _whoosh_.

"This is how I choose to deal with things, and you can't control that," she'd said to him during their confrontation.

_Except I can. That is how_ I _choose to deal with things._

_And I will._

* * *

"Alright, I'm sorry, but... I have to say something."

Jess glanced over at her friend who was lounging across her bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows. Misty had finally moved in with her sister and picked up the other teen after her morning meeting, so the two of them were hanging out in her small but cozy bedroom. The walls were plastered with posters, including the Batman one she'd hung at the facility, and her random trinkets and belongings were scattered haphazardly among her dresser and desk in the corners. Nothing particularly matched, but it felt like a space belonging to Misty all the same in its messiness and lack of organization.

From her spot on the beanbag, Jess raised her brows. "What do you mean?"

Misty met her gaze for a brief moment before rubbing at her face. "About... stardust. And what happened with Damian," she clarified, voice muffled by her hand.

Oh.

Jess had explained the morning's fiasco, of course, when they'd met up because she'd needed to get it off her chest. Not only had the stupid argument happened between her and Damian, but Erin had also talked about her missing curfew last night for the second time—not that Jess thought it would go unnoticed. The woman had expressed both concern and disappointment in her for "what seems like you slipping up lately," and if that alone hadn't been enough, she'd outright told Jess she could tell the teen wasn't behaving the way she should.

In other words, Erin pretty much knew she'd taken to bad habits (to say the least) and was still struggling when it came to... well, everything.

"You did well with your tutoring exams and at the library," she'd said carefully, eyes boring into Jess, "and you said your job was going nicely, too. But what are we missing here, Jess? You're so close to finishing everything here and going back home."

_So close, yet so far away, huh?_ Jess had thought.

"Is there something more we need to do?" Erin had added.

Damian's words echoing in her head, Jess had barely been able to handle hearing what was essentially the exact same sentiment from her probation officer. Sure, he'd been a lot harsher about his concerns, but having Erin mirror that same care and desire to understand her only piled on the immense guilt and frustration Jess had been experiencing. It'd taken a lot of self-control not to lose it in that diner. She'd known she couldn't avoid Erin's questions the way she had Damian's—plus, this was different, wasn't it? _This_ was her actual legal responsibility, her punishment, her way of atoning for her sins... her way back onto whatever path she was supposed to follow that wasn't riddled with crime and wrongdoing.

She hadn't known what to say, so she'd said nothing at all.

Then Erin had told her quietly, "You do realize it took a lot of convincing on my part to get the judge to overlook your first time breaking curfew, right?"

Jess had left that meeting feeling even worse than she had entering it, which said a lot. It was a miracle she hadn't broken down yet since then, though it probably had something to do with the fact that she'd grown too used to burying her thoughts and emotions. All that was left was for her to hear from her aunt because Erin would be updating her and determining what was going to happen from now on. There was very little chance her second mistake (and the suspicions the woman had about Jess's continued conflicts) would go unpunished and unaddressed... and Jess wasn't quite sure how to feel about it except self-inflicted numbness.

What if her probation was extended? What if it worsened and she had to do more beyond everything she'd accomplished this summer? What if she had to stay longer in Gotham or even go elsewhere?

What if Damian was right and she didn't deserve this second chance?

"I get it if you don't want to hear it since you've already gotten an earful from Damian and Erin," Misty was saying as she pulled her hand from her face and looked down at the pillow in her lap. "But, honestly, dude, I've been keeping quiet about this for so long... It just doesn't feel right to stay silent, you know?"

Jess said nothing, feeling her heart beginning to pound a little faster in her chest as she sat there and avoided looking at her friend. _Of course you have something to say now, too._

Well, she might as well let everyone say their piece at this point.

"I'm not gonna go off on you or ask a bunch of questions... I just wanna say that I never thought it was a good idea for you to start using stardust," she explained, hesitation in her tone, "but I... I never said anything about it 'cause I hoped you'd, you know, figure it out on your own."

Several long moments passed in silence before Jess forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to get a grip on the irritation and anxiety creeping under her skin.

A small part of her was reminding her that Misty was just trying to be a friend, but she couldn't fight the growing frustration at what felt like everyone judging her for her life choices. Just like Erin had said, she'd been doing well and keeping up with every part of her probation except for a few screw-ups here and there—why did it feel like she was being looked down upon for being human?

She'd had no idea Misty had felt this way about her getting into stardust, so her annoyance was fueled by the surprise at her friend's thoughts.

_Maybe it would've been better if you had stayed quiet._

"No, I get it. And I, um, respect your opinion and wanting to say something to me about me using stardust," Jess managed to speak, her throat feeling tight.

Her friend didn't say anything—she could feel her eyes on her, but Jess didn't want to look up and meet her gaze.

"But you're also right. I don't really want to hear about it from anyone else right now."

She was preparing herself for some kind of remark, but Misty instead changed the subject.

"No biggie. You wanna watch a movie or something in the living room? Maya should be back soon with lunch."

Something like relief washed through her, though it didn't completely erase the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not only did Damian have such strong feelings and opinions about her and stardust, but now her other friend did, too. And if that wasn't already a headache, there was still a layer of anxiety in her heart at the fact that her future was unknown.

Because _of course_ she wouldn't be able to successfully complete her probation for just a few mere months in Gotham. _Of course_ she would still find a way to fuck it up despite having done everything she could to keep her head down, to cope in ways that weren't akin to running around with criminals, to try and actually live a normal life. The world and all odds seemed to have been against her since her parents' deaths, and maybe they always would be. And if that were the case...

What was the point?

* * *

The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful this afternoon save for a few cars rolling down the street or children passing by on skateboards and bikes. The sun was attempting to peek out from behind a thin layer of clouds above, its warmth enveloping Misty's bare arms and legs as she sat on the steps leading up to Maya's house. Her dark eyes were trained on her high-top sneakers although her thoughts were elsewhere, on the young man who was leaning against the driver's side of his vehicle parked in the driveway.

Damian and his luxury car looked completely out-of-place and not simply because of who he was and his obvious wealth; it was that aura, the way he carried and presented himself that just always seemed to create this unseen bubble around him, making most people intimidated by his mere existence (that and the look on his face made him seem unapproachable). Misty was more accustomed to it now than she had when he'd still been at the academy, but it was still very weird having him in her driveway. They weren't really _friends_ yet… except the one mutual connection they had was most definitely the reason he was there in the first place.

And if that wasn't strange enough, she felt like she could almost tell that he was bothered. Sure, he pretty much always looked like he had the male version of a "resting bitch face" on most of the time, but there was something in his face and body language that looked a lot more… tense than usual.

That was saying something, considering he was who he was.

"Let me guess," Misty started slowly, resting her elbows onto her knees. "You're here to ask me if I knew she was using stardust… _or_ if I'm the one who got her into it."

_Please, for the love of all good things on this damn planet, do not accuse me of that._

Green eyes landed on her, glinting in the daylight. "I don't think you're the one who introduced her, Misty."

"Oh…" the teen responded with a raised brow. "Well, that's… good to hear. I really wouldn't have appreciated that." She scoffed lightly though it was humorless. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she looked back down at her feet. "I did know, unfortunately. And even worse, I didn't say anything about it."

"Why not?"

With a shrug, Misty explained, "I didn't think it was that big of a deal at first. I mean, I really did think it was just a harmless, recreational thing, you know? But then I heard what was happening with the hospitalizations and whatnot… I saw how she was spending more time day-drinking when we hung out because she couldn't go to late night parties—unless she skipped curfew, of course, which we know she did a few times already."

"I… never brought it up to her either." His voice had quieted a little, but his tone was still hardened like the look on his face. "After that first night she skipped curfew, she wouldn't tell me where she'd been or why she had stayed out late."

Somehow, Misty wasn't surprised at all to hear this. She recalled covering for Jess at the facility when she hadn't shown up by the next morning, knowing it was because the teen had willingly stayed late at the party and disappeared without telling her—she hadn't failed to scold Jess for doing so because that in itself was pretty dumb. That was another reason why she'd stuck around the other night and called Damian after figuring out their friend was going to most likely break curfew again.

And Jess had proved her point.

"Is Kade involved in this somehow?"

_Shit._

Misty glanced up then, seeing that Damian was looking at her carefully, his arms crossed as he continued leaning against his car. A small part of her wanted to either lie or pretend she didn't know the answer—she had to have Jess's back somehow, right?—but there was another voice whispering, prodding, letting her know that it wouldn't do any good to _not_ be truthful with him.

Plus, she had a very good feeling he already knew the answer somehow.

She wanted Jess to get off this track though, right? She'd never said anything to her friend for this long, always secretly hoping the girl would find it in herself to quit if not just lose interest. How much longer would she have gone without speaking up? Jess had over a week left in Gotham, and Misty had no idea if she'd developed some any dependency on the drug, so who knew what that meant for her? Central City probably hadn't been hit by stardust yet. Perhaps Jess would have gone back home, hopelessly addicted... and then what?

_Sorry, Kade and Jess._

Sighing, Misty met Damian's gaze again. "He's the one who got her into it, yeah... She uses it most when he's around."

He was silent for a long moment, eyes turned away to nothing in particular down the street. "I don't understand why I never noticed. How does it affect her? Do you know how often she uses?"

Though she felt she should've expected it, it was kind of odd seeing him so eager to find out everything Misty knew about their mutual friend's unfortunate drug use. Granted, she'd never gotten to know him or understand an inch of his emotional spectrum, but she knew this just meant he cared—and so should she.

"She's on it probably at least half the time we hang out," Misty answered, trying to think back over the last several weeks. "From what I know, it usually just helps her... feel normal, I guess? She's said stuff about having recurring nightmares and anxiety, so I suppose stardust curbs that."

Tilting her head thoughtfully, she regarded Damian with a curious gaze. "I think Jess only really showed side effects when she was pairing it with alcohol or spending time with Kade and other people. Like... those are the times she needed it most? I dunno, maybe she's got social anxiety or something or just is more comfortable when it comes to hanging out with you or me."

"She must have been very careful not to use it or exhibit signs around me," he mused aloud, almost like he was talking to himself rather than her.

Misty hadn't really given it much thought why that was. Of course, she didn't know the reasoning behind a lot of things her friend did, but it was definitely intriguing realizing Jess had patterns to her usage. _It must say a lot that she isn't as dependent on it when it comes to hanging out with me and Damian... and that she kept it from him._

Was he going to ask more about Kade? As cool as she was with the other teen, Misty certainly cared more about Jess and her stardust usage than she did about the blond. She and Kade weren't close friends by any means, but at this point, she was just kicking herself for not advising Jess against the stupid drug.

But instead of asking about the guy, Damian said something else that caught Misty off-guard.

"What did she say... about the disagreement?"

Though he was looking at her, she saw something peculiar in the emerald greens, a hesitation she'd never witnessed on him before.

"Uh..."

In her mind's eye, Misty remembered the frustration on her friend's face, the tension in her voice as she expressed how unfairly Damian had supposedly been treating her. She hadn't said much in response, mostly because she figured Jess only wanted to vent and had no desire to hear any actual feedback or thoughts. It'd seemed pretty clear that she was upset he'd found her little bag—"All because I was in a hurry and forgot to put it away," she'd groaned in disbelief.

"I mean, she was upset... and it probably didn't help that I told her I kind of agreed with you."

"You told her that?" He raised a brow in slight surprise.

Running a hand through her hair, Misty sighed and went on, "Yeah. I basically explained that I wanted to say something about her using stardust but never did. She didn't really have much to say besides that she didn't wanna talk about it, but I think... I think she gets it. It's just a matter of her actually doing something about it, ya know?"

And Misty believed that. She didn't think Jess was particularly _stupid_... she was just misguided and needed a push in the right direction. However that'd be done, though? Misty wasn't quite sure.

Damian was quiet, looking lost in thought from his position.

"She's supposed to hear back from her probation officer soon about what's gonna happen, like whether they'll extend her probation or whatever since she missed curfew twice..."

Misty's voice trailed off, her thoughts wandering to the day she'd met Jess, another teenage girl with cool, blue hair and a mysterious past. She'd been hard to figure out for a little while, at least to Misty—it would've been an understatement to say that what she knew and felt about Jess now was completely different from what they'd been earlier in the summer.

"Looking back, I wish I hadn't introduced her to other people by taking her to a party," Misty then admitted, watching as a pair of bikers passed in front of the driveway. She sighed at the memory. "Thought it'd be a cool way to get her immersed in Gotham, but that was way before I learned why she was even here in the first place."

Damian shook his head. "You have no responsibility in this. This is entirely on Jessica herself, and it's still on her to right things before it's too late. I also wish I had noticed and said something to her earlier, but it seems she… purposefully blindsided me."

"But what if it is? Too late, I mean?"

His eyes met hers, and Misty continued on to clarify, "I have no idea how dependent she is on stardust. I have no idea what'll happen with her probation, and that's entirely up to other people who literally can determine where her life goes next. So what I'm trying to say is... she's already messed up enough that it's changing her plans. It _is_ too late."

"Regardless of what sort of punishment or consequences she faces, she still has to make the decision to cease using stardust," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "That is a given no matter the outcome of her probation officer's plan."

Misty turned his words over in her head, staring intently at the grass below her. He had a point despite how she wasn't sure there was much they could do. It didn't matter what was going to happen with Jess's probation if the girl had no intentions of quitting the drug—everything else would be moot should she continue it wherever she went, whether that was staying in Gotham, going back to Central City, or elsewhere.

"So... should we do something then? Is that what you're suggesting? Give her an intervention?"

Her tone was slightly joking at the last part, but it was a serious question all the same.

He appeared to take a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with exhaustion. "I believe it would be best if I speak to her... alone. Not that you can't try another time with you two." Damian looked at her then, a strange, bleak look on his face. "But it seems that she and I have unresolved... feelings... to discuss."

Silence followed, punctuated by the occasional bird chirping above them or a car passing by. Misty was trying not to reel at how _hesitant_ he was being, a demeanor she never thought she'd see on him, one that seemed unnatural for someone who constantly seemed like he was just fully confident in himself. Still, she would've been naive to deny that he cared about Jess and the disagreement they'd had—he clearly wanted to do something about it aside from wanting to get her to quit stardust. That alone was what a friend would do, right?

Before she could say anything, he was pushing himself off his car. "Thank you, Misty."

"Wait."

Hand on the door handle, Damian paused, green eyes resting on her expectantly.

"I know you probably have a bad idea about Kade now, but like you said, this is on Jess. He's not a bad guy... He's probably just not the best influence for her right now."

She didn't really know what had compelled her to say all that, but she said no more as she watched something shift in Damian's eyes.

Something that made her feel like what she'd just said hadn't done any good.

The Aston Martin was gone in less than a minute, leaving Misty standing on the porch steps and overcome with sudden exhaustion and worry.

* * *

At 8:07 p.m., he was perched on the fire escape of a ten-story building, his cape fluttering in the light, nighttime wind. Hood pulled over his head, he watched the front side of the restaurant nearby, waiting for a familiar brunette to exit. Unless she was running late for some reason, she was finishing her shift by now and, ideally, would be heading back to the facility and making the 9 p.m. curfew.

He almost didn't want her to.

A minute later, Jessica Fairchild was leaving the restaurant's double doors. She pulled a lightweight jacket over her casual work attire as she began walking down the street. Gotham was relatively quiet at this time, the sky a bluish-black and only a few civilians on the sidewalks, making it easy for the masked hero to follow her with less than a hundred feet between them.

Initially, Robin had made the decision to tail the teen to merely keep an eye on her and make sure she wasn't making any unprecedented visits or stops that would get her in trouble... but there was that nagging feeling in his bones, that voice in the back of his head that wanted to do more than that. _I have to do more._ He debated this for the next several minutes, weighing the pros and cons in his mind as he followed the girl through Gotham's streets—so far, it seemed like she was on her way to the facility and nowhere else.

Four days. It'd been four days since the confrontation that had erupted between them, though it had felt longer. Four days, zero texts, zero calls. As he continued hugging the shadows and darkness between buildings, he felt a yearning to get closer; time had seemed to stretch on lately without her usual presence and contact to fill the space, making him feel strange and... almost at a loss. It was a strange way to consider it, particularly for a young man who valued his solitude and was comfortable in it. Yet the sudden silence between them had disrupted his sense of routine and contentment, an adverse circumstance that didn't sit well with him.

_I have to fix it._

Determination settling over Robin, he picked up the pace and maneuvered his way across the street, still nearly fifty feet behind Jess's walking figure. She was just about to round a corner, a few more minutes from the facility, and there was no one around—this was a better time now than ever—so he landed quietly on the sidewalk and waited against the wall of the building next to him.

Her gaze seemed to be turned downward as she came around the street corner, but as soon as Jess was within several yards of him, her head snapped upward in alarm. Stepping back with surprise, her eyes widened as she looked at him, but then realization fell across her features along with something else he couldn't quite name.

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" she asked before continuing on down the sidewalk. He couldn't tell if she was joking.

Robin fell into step beside her, gaze darting around to ensure no one would see them. Preferably, they'd speak somewhere further from the street and in a darker corner.

"Don't flatter yourself," he responded. "I just need to ask you a few questions."

"Does anyone else in this city get to run into you as often as I do?"

"Only criminals who are repeat offenders."

She glanced over at him, brows furrowing together before she shook her head as if she were disagreeing. "Great to know I fit the bill," Jess muttered.

_You didn't fit the bill until last weekend._

Stepping in front of her to cut her off, Robin firmly insisted, "Five minutes, and I will leave you alone."

Her hazel eyes stared at him, and despite his mask, he couldn't help feeling like she could potentially see past it, under his hood... see _him._

"Fine," Jess finally said with a sigh, gesturing with a hand for him to lead the way

He ducked quickly into the narrow space between two buildings where it was small enough that one wouldn't be able to hold out both arms without hitting a wall. Analyzing the area in a quick sweep to ensure there were no prying eyes, he determined the area seemed safe for now. Bits of trash littered the ground at their feet, and the light breeze was less noticeable here. Turning to Jess, he saw that she was standing with her arms crossed, looking at him expectantly.

"Tell me everything you know about stardust."

That had her brows raising in disbelief, then she was scoffing humorlessly and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. His question had clearly put her off, though he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"I thought you said you weren't keeping tabs on me anymore," she replied, acidity in her tone.

"The drug is spreading quickly throughout the city. We found that you happen to be one of its... devoted users."

Jess sighed again. She appeared tired suddenly, like she'd run out of energy to be defensive and snarky. "Look... I don't know anything. I don't even buy it from some dealer. It's just something I decided to try out for a little while."

"How long is 'a little while'?" His gaze narrowed behind the mask, that familiar urge to get answers arising in him. "Who do you get it from?"

She said nothing, peering at him with eyes that seemed to be searching his face in spite of the darkness.

_Why are you doing it at all?_

"Is it... is it really that bad?" Jess's voice was quiet now, something like concern taking over her features. "I mean, are you really trying to stop people from using it?"

"In the last six weeks, there's been one death and two hospitalizations related to stardust. The more information you can give me, the better."

Her gaze fell to the ground as she seemed to contemplate his words, though every second that went by only made Robin more impatient.

"I... I get mine from a guy named Kade Noor, but he's not the dealer or supplier or whatever. He gets his stash from someone he goes to school with—I don't know his name. From what I know, the guy sells to a lot of people who go to Gotham Academy."

Robin nodded once. There was nothing that she said that he hadn't already known, but it was helpful—and relieving—to see she wasn't lying to him. Perhaps it was a good idea to approach her as his heroic identity rather than as Damian.

"The ones who died or were sent to the hospital..." she hesitated. "Were they young?"

"Their ages ranged from nineteen to twenty-six years old," he answered promptly.

Jess looked zoned out for a moment. It was moments like this when he wished he could read what was on her mind. What was she thinking? Was she finally reconsidering her habit?

"That could be you," he then said, still watching her face carefully.

Eyes flickering to him, she shook her head. "No, I'm really careful. I know what my limit is."

Irritation rose in him. "You say that now until you're the one in the hospital bed."

Suspicion knitted her brows together as she responded, "I thought this was about your investigation, not me."

"It is, but I'd be remiss to not warn you about stardust." Robin paused, trying to sort through all the questions at the front of his mind, begging to be answered. "Did Kade convince you to start using?"

"What? No, he—"

"How often are you under the influence and how long can you go without it?"

Jess was staring at him now, confusion having taken over her face as she stood there. The impatience still clung to his nerves, making him realize that it was more difficult to control than he'd anticipated.

"You know... you're starting to sound like someone else who also doesn't want me to be using it," she said to him, her voice soft.

_If only you knew._

"Sounds like they aren't brainless, then."

Glancing around and tucking her hair behind her ear, she then continued, "Yeah, I already have more than enough people trying to talk to me out of it, so there's no need for you to join the party. I mean, I appreciate it... I guess... but having two of you track me down? It's a little much."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she kept on.

"So does this mean that 'hood' guy send you? 'Cause I didn't have a lot to give him last time, so it seems redundant for both of you to talk to me—"

"Hold on. Who are you talking about?"

Puzzlement crossed her face. "Red Hood? He found me a few weeks ago and also asked about stardust."

A ringing sound began in his ears, faint but indicative of the startling realization falling over him. Though his eyes were on Jess, he saw in his mind familiar, blue irises that regarded him disdainfully and an impish smirk that he'd always wanted to sink his fist into.

It was possible, wasn't it?

Making an effort to remain calm, Robin managed to ask in a tight voice, "Was that your first encounter with him?"

"No, I met him a little before that. Why?"

He was vaguely aware of his gloved hands tightening into fists at his side as his heart began to thump harder, but he forced them to open and relax.

"Go home," was all Robin said as he grabbed the grapple at his waist, aiming and shooting it at the top of the building behind her.

"What? Where are you—?"

Looking at her and steadying his grip, he added, "And stay off the stardust."

He didn't wait for an answer, activating the grapple and pulling himself up the wall, Jess still on the ground below with her gaze turned upward to the night sky.

* * *

Two nights later, Damian had found him.

It had taken many hours over the course of two days, sitting in the Batcave and scouring over mounds of data. He'd known it wouldn't be easy, not when the person he was trying to find possessed nearly the same skills he did and knew exactly how to disappear and stay that way. Still, Damian had gathered every piece of information he could find that suggested Jason Todd's return to Gotham, including recent witness reports of the infamous Red Hood as well as apartment rentals. His hunt didn't go unnoticed by Bruce, who offered more than enough words of caution and hesitation at his sudden interest in finding his older brother.

_"Jason is back," Damian announced bluntly from his position at the computer, gaze still trained on the monitors before him._

_Somewhere behind him, he knew Bruce's eyes were widening by a fraction, though his father was likely more surprised that Damian was interested in him as opposed to the fact that Jason was back in town after having been off-the-grid for nearly a year._

_"Does this have something to do with all the effort you're suddenly putting into the stardust case?"_

_"It has everything to do with it."_

_"And Jess?"_

_Damian's eyes fell to the keyboard as tension hit his shoulders. Hearing her name had triggered a strange ache in his chest, one that was uncomfortable and almost suffocating. Light footsteps alerted him to Bruce's presence at his side._

_"I saw the lab results you generated the other day… after she seemed to leave your room in a hurry. She looked like she was upset."_

_The younger Wayne said nothing… because there was nothing to say. There was nothing to confirm nor deny in his father's statement._

_"So what does Jason being back have to do with her using stardust?"_

_Taking a deep, even breath, Damian didn't meet Bruce's eyes as he explained, "She's met him. Twice. Apparently, he approached her about stardust weeks ago, which suggests he also intends to put a stop to it. Perhaps he merely sought her out after learning she uses it, but I think there's more."_

_It didn't make sense to him that Jason would simply find a teenager who was using the drug to interrogate them about it; there had to be another connection that had brought the two together, and he had to find out what that was. Damian couldn't care less why his older brother was back in town, not when his priorities were centered solely on driving a wedge between his friend and the hazardous powder._

_"Damian…"_

_"Father, I really don't want to hear it," he said sharply, glancing over and meeting the blue eyes regarding him with concern. "My only concern here is to make Jessica see her mistake and do right by it, and I will do that by any means at hand."_

_Bruce's face was calm. "I know, son. And I believe you'll succeed at it."_

_Damian tore his gaze away, green eyes landing back on the computer screens but not actually seeing what was on them._

_"If there's anyone who'll get through to her, it's you."_

Is it? _he thought._

_"You, Damian. Not Robin."_

The hidden meaning in his father's words had haunted him since and for good reason. He knew exactly what Bruce was trying to say, but that was a truth he wasn't willing to face and acknowledge. Robin's encounter with her hadn't entirely been successful, yes, but that didn't speak to his effectiveness, could it? Besides, Damian's disagreement with Jess only proved that wrong—clearly, him trying to get through to her as her friend hadn't worked out.

_"Perhaps you don't deserve another chance."_

That single sentence had slipped out without hesitation and left her speechless. Rarely did he ever feel guilty or bad for being candidly blunt, but the way she'd been stunned and hurt had seared into his memory.

He shook it from his head as he looked up at the apartment building in eastern Gotham, the brick wall illuminated by a single street light behind him. Few of the windows were lit from within, and the faint sound of a television show were coming from one that was slid open. If his investigation hadn't failed him, this was where he'd find Jason and… well, admittedly, Damian hadn't gotten much further beyond that in his plan. Despite his buried feelings towards his older brother, a small part of him had considered approaching this situation in the most civil manner possible. That voice had competed with the one that yearned to don the suit and simply break in, but ultimately, he'd left the manor as his civilian self.

The hallway was brightly lit, his footsteps echoing softly on the concrete floor. At the end was apartment 5D, the door covered in scuffs and marks. Damian rapped his knuckles against it, completely aware of the nervousness simmering in his chest and stomach. It'd been almost two years since he'd spoken to Jason and even longer that he'd actually seen him; coming face-to-face with him was an experience he never thought would happen for many more years to come.

But Jess had managed to find a way to reconnect them whether either of them liked it or not.

Another knock and a pressed ear against the door later, Damian made the last minute decision that he would not leave without some kind of information regardless. Within seconds, the door was unlocked and he stepped cautiously inside, met with the strong scent of cigarettes and a tinge of aftershave. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness before slowly stepping around what appeared to be the living room with shapes of a couch and a recliner to his right. The kitchen looked to be ahead of him, the digital clock of the microwave tiny but visible from across the apartment.

Part of him was expecting booby traps or any kind of surveillance to be set up, so the teen navigated the place as carefully as possible with all his senses on high alert. Eventually, he found what must've been the bedroom door—as soon as he opened it by a few inches, a particular shifting sound had his hand shooting out and catching something that had fallen from above.

It was a bobby pin.

Gaze narrowing, Damian carefully bent down to the floor with his phone's flashlight, finding a folded hand towel lined up against the wall next to the door frame. A few moments of inspection had him shaking his head to himself. It appeared that Jason had certainly set up the pin to fall if someone opened the door, falling to the towel silently and triggering what looked like a hidden motion sensor in the wall (based on the slightly conspicuous drywall patches on the paint). Damian only had a few guesses for what exactly the motion sensor would trigger, but he was glad he'd caught the pin nonetheless.

The bed in the corner was unmade, and the drapes were drawn shut across the room. It took several more minutes of thorough searching, but he finally came across the safe that was shoved in the back corner of the closet. At this point, he was confident that this was Jason's apartment, and that was merely confirmed by the clothes he'd had to shove aside while wrinkling his nose. Squatting and shining his dimmed phone light on the keypad, he started running a combination of numbers through his head.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Within half a second, Damian was dropping his phone and straightening up while turning in place to whip his hand out. It met something hard, and he felt something coming straight for his face—he leaned backwards just in time, feeling it whiz past his chin, and launched into a flurry of movements on pure instinct. Unfortunately, something very hard and small managed to connect with his temple despite his efforts to dodge it, sending pain through his head and white in his vision, but he kept on dancing and back and forth with the unknown intruder until his hand came in contact with what felt like the handgun they were wielding.

A twist here, a jab there, and then he had the gun pointed at the dark figure that had stopped abruptly in the middle of the room. The undeniable click as he cocked the firearm was audible in the sudden silence as he breathed heavily, blood pounding in his ears while the adrenaline surged through him.

The ceiling light turned on then, revealing the unexpected assailant.

Blue-green eyes filled with characteristic roguishness met Damian's, completely unfazed by the steady barrel that was a mere foot from his face.

"'Bout time you showed up, demon spawn," Jason Todd drawled, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.

* * *

**Note: **THANK U ALL for the reviews and love! you're all so kind. i truly wasn't expecting so much commentary about Jess and Damian's confrontation lol but i'm not complaining at all. i totally echo everyone's sentiment though about her needing to figure her shit out. (also, thanks to **deerlyhan** for pointing out my editing mistake, i removed that mention of blue hair asap xD that's how you know i wasn't thorough with my editing)

definitely made this a bit longer than usual to make up for the extended time between updates. sorry not sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger hehe. i had this meeting between Damian and Jason planned for a while, and i'm glad we're finally here lol. i know his introduction into the story was super slow, but as you can see, it was for good reason!

anyway, hope y'all are doing well. this pandemic stuff and working from home and just all the chaos happening nowadays low-key has me struggling to get through the day sometimes, which affects my hobbies and interests (including this fanfic), so i really appreciate your patience! also, can we talk about the new trailers for the Batman movie and Gotham Knights game? super excited for them—all this new DC content gave me some much-needed serotonin, phew. kind of wish Damian was in the game, too, but that's just the Damian fangirl in me talking xD

until next time, xx


	25. With Time

**Note: **kind of surprised i was able to update this quickly but hey, i'm not complaining, and i'm sure you guys aren't either LOL.

hope you like this one! lemme know what you think :)

* * *

"_My heart feels splintered because I miss you_

_But when I'm with you, all of our baggage unpacks_

_And I don't want to lose a friend,_

_but if I keep my distance, I know this will end_

_I know that you're not trying, but you pull me in_

_And I can't seem to escape_

_No, I don't want to lose a friend"_

_~ Beowulf & INTRN, "Lose A Friend"_

* * *

**Chapter 25: With Time**

**2 years ago**

As soon as he entered the cave, the low voices that had been chatting immediately stopped. A heavy silence sunk into the vicinity, and he knew everyone's eyes were on him as he made his way towards the display cases, eager to remove his gear. The young hero could hardly take off his gloves; his hands were shaking, and it only made him even angrier than he currently felt. With a burst of frustration, he ripped off the gloves and practically threw them on the floor.

"Damian..."

A low, rough voice spoke up behind him, sending a ringing sound through his ears. There was barely any sense of control in the emotions rolling off his body as he stood there, eyes closed while he struggled to take even breaths.

"Damian, I—"

It happened too fast.

His fist connected, hard, with the older man's face, disrupting the room's previous quiet. Jason reeled back, hand to his cheek after the impact. Somewhere, in the corner of Damian's eye, Bruce was heaving a big sigh and Dick was stepping forward in alarm. Tim was probably somewhere outside his vision, but Damian couldn't care less about the audience, not when his whole body was taken over with hot rage and animosity.

Jason straightened up, his nose bleeding underneath his gloved hand. Blue-green irises were aflame with irritation as he spat on the floor. "Alright. I guess I deserved that," he said flatly.

"You deserve so much more," Damian nearly growled between clenched teeth as he moved closer, his hand gravitating to the katana still at his waist.

"Damian," Dick warned. "Let's think about this for a second."

Ignoring him, the younger hero never removed his furious glare from his older brother, who was holding his gaze easily. "This is _your_ fault, Todd," he spat, pointing at him. "It's because of your _infuriating incompetence_ that this didn't go as planned. _Her father is in the ICU because of you._"

"I already told you what happened, you brat," Jason countered, eyes narrowing. "How the fuck was I supposed to fulfill my part of the mission when—?"

"You are a disgrace to this family, you realize that? I was counting on you, and you were useless—"

"I'm a what now?"

Fiery, green eyes sparked as Jason stepped closer. Damian's brows were knitted together in his immense glare. In a voice that was eerily calm, he went on without hesitation, "You're an absolute disgra—"

Jason threw himself at the teen, but neither of them even managed to make contact with the other. Strong arms had immediately wrapped themselves around Damian, yanking him backwards as soon as he reached for his katana. In front of him, Dick was standing in front of Jason, using his arm to push him backwards. A quick glance told him that Tim had been the one to intercept; Damian shoved him away, but even as he attempted to move towards Jason, Dick was blocking him.

Annoyance written across his features, the man leveled a gaze with the upset teen. "Damian, _don't_. Both of you just relax, okay?"

"Richard, he—"

"I know exactly what happened and what went wrong," Dick snapped, his blue eyes, normally kind, now alight with frustration. "I get that you're upset, but fighting isn't going to fix anything. There's nothing we can do about it now."

_I can feel better by beating him senselessly. That's what I could do._

"You know..." Jason spoke up, still jeering at Damian from behind Dick's shoulder with bright blood smeared around his nose and mouth. "You ever think about how we wouldn't even be here if you hadn't told her that you're Ro—"

"Jason! That's enough." The four heads snapped towards Bruce, who'd stood from his chair and was approaching them. He was still wearing his suit except for his mask, the dark material scuffed from the night's exhausting and grueling activities. His gaze split between them all, filled with disappointment and grievance.

And then the blue eyes met Damian's, softening the slightest bit. "Damian, I know this is difficult. We should have been able to help them without anyone getting hurt."

Jaw tightening, the youngest hero ripped his gaze away and said nothing. The violent desires in him were almost too much to handle.

"I think we're all stressed and worn out. Let's call it a night and get some rest."

Eyes still trained on the floor, Damian felt Tim walking away, then Jason. A gentle hand fell onto his shoulder, followed by Dick's soft voice. "If you want me to accompany you to the hospital tomorrow, just let me know." And then he was gone, too.

He still felt his father's presence nearby, the older Wayne watching, waiting. Perhaps only a few minutes passed, maybe more, but Damian stayed in that same spot, suddenly overcome with the urge to cry. Previously, all he'd felt was pure resentment... sheer outrage towards his brother for his slip-up, but most certainly towards himself. Now, he was merely tired, _exhausted_ and overwhelmed.

What if Jason was right? What if none of this had happened if he simply had kept the truth from her?

_This_ is _your fault,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

"Damian."

He was nearly finished putting his suit away when his father's voice interrupted him. Not meeting his eyes, Damian said, "I'm fine, Father." Closing the display case, he turned around to find Bruce standing there, something like worry in his careful gaze.

"You don't have to pretend—"

"I'm not pretending," he retorted with a reflexive glare. "I am _fine_."

Not waiting for a response, Damian walked away and headed up the stairs to the manor, feeling everything except fine.

* * *

**Present day**

Those old, negative feelings were back again for the first time in nearly two years.

He felt them rising in his chest and spreading through his limbs as he stood there with an iron grip on the handgun still pointed between those blue-green eyes that he hadn't seen in so long. The teen couldn't even bring himself to respond to his older brother; he was too busy working to maintain control over the nostalgic pain and suffering that was coming back.

Jason certainly had aged a bit since he'd last seen him. Still in his late twenties, the former Robin's disheveled, dark hair was nearly to his ears, that characteristic white tuft of hair as prominent as ever above his forehead. He was wearing what appeared to be a newer version of his typical leather jacket with little to no signs of wear or fading; a five o'clock shadow darkened the lower half of his face, slight smile lines—perhaps frown lines instead?—sunken into both sides of his mouth. Funnily, his eyes were the one feature that hadn't seemed to have changed, still bright in terms of color yet darkened with all the things he likely wished he could unsee, years of pain and misery.

"You're not really that surprised to see me, are you?"

That slight smirk was still there though it held no ounce of humor.

Damian said nothing, never once moving from his position as he held the gun steady.

The expression faded from Jason's face, seriousness replacing it. "You wanna pull the trigger? Go ahead. Be my guest."

Heart beating faster, he watched as the older man stepped closer until the barrel was touching his forehead. His hand was clammy now, but he only tightened his grip, finger still on the trigger, refusing to show any sign of uncertainty or weakness.

"This what you came here for?" Jason asked. "Vengeance?"

_Vengeance._

The word shifted something in him—Damian pressed his lips into a hard line and then lifted the gun away, spinning it effortlessly within his hand until the grip faced towards the other man. Without taking his eyes off the teen, Jason took it from him and placed it in the holster at his waist.

"You knew I was coming," Damian finally said, his voice carefully controlled.

"Sure did," Jason answered nonchalantly, moving to leave the bedroom. "Took you a while, though. Almost thought you wouldn't look for me."

After retrieving his phone from the closet floor, the former assassin followed him out to where Jason was rummaging around in his fridge. Now that the lights were on, he could see how barren and uninteresting the apartment was—typically Jason. From where he stood, there didn't seem to be a whole lot of groceries in the fridge.

"Want a beer?"

At Damian's head shake, Jason shrugged and headed towards the recliner, plopping himself down and cracking open the can with a hiss. "So what brings you to breaking in to my place, Baby Bat?" he asked after taking a long sip.

After taking a few moments to consider his words, Damian said, "You are aware of stardust and what it's doing to the city."

Jason raised a brow as he sat back in the recliner. "Yeah? I'm guessing you and the old man are already on the case. You here to find out what I know?"

_Yes._

But this was not something Damian wanted to particularly say aloud. He never liked asking for help, and Jason was one of the last people he would ever turn to for assistance no matter the circumstances. Besides, he actually cared more about finding out how he and Jess had crossed paths, and that had less to do with stardust than it did with... well, however they'd met in the first place.

A lump was forming in his throat, preventing him from saying anything. The idea of bringing up Jess brought a sour taste in his mouth, one that came with bitter memories and feelings he'd worked hard to shelve away. He could already hear what his older brother would say at the idea that Damian had again found someone to care about... someone he would undoubtedly do anything to protect, just like—

"I know you're not here to say hi after all this time," Jason spoke up, gaze steady on him from across the room. "There has to be some damn good reason you're willing to go out of your way to find me when you don't want to do anything but spill my guts."

He had felt that way for a long time, hadn't he?

"And I doubt it has much to do with stardust."

_Say something, you idiot._

"Father and I can take care of the stardust issue. There's no need for your involvement."

The scoff he gave was sharp, his blue-green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Very funny. What makes you think I'm going to stop what I'm doing just because you and Bruce want to keep run around playing hero?"

"Is that not what you are doing as well?" His gaze flickered to the distinctive red helmet sitting on the table nearby.

"Eh. I don't think I have to remind you that there's a difference between me and you."

"Correct: you don't have to. But it's because of that difference that you don't need to be meddling in our business. We can handle it without your interference."

Shaking his head, Jason took another long gulp from the can before setting it down. "That's what pisses me off so much about you, you know that? You have this extreme case of a superiority complex, which I'm ninety-nine percent sure is genetic. I figured maybe you'd grown out of it by now, but damn..." He let out a low whistle, settling his harsh eyes onto Damian, whose fist was clenching at his side.

"Like father, like son, hm?" he added.

Although the older man's thoughts were no surprise to Damian, they affected him more than he wanted to admit. He'd spent many of his first years in Gotham being reprimanded for his haughty behavior, and to this day, it still felt like he was unlearning that along with other undesirable parts of his personality that had never served him any good. And out of everyone in the family that had made him feel the worst about himself, it was undeniably Jason who took first place. (And then Tim in close second, though sometimes it flipped back and forth, depending on who was angering him and for what reason.)

"Jessica Fairchild," he finally said, meeting Jason's eyes. "She was part of a case we worked on earlier this summer. You tracked her down because she's using stardust while in the city on probation."

"So...?"

"I need to know how you came across her. We've been surveying her since she was apprehended." It was difficult keeping the impatience out of his voice.

"Oh, so she's another one of Bruce's basket cases."

At that, Damian didn't respond.

Jason paused then let out a heavy sigh. "I was out one night when I saw her on the street. Bunch of goons with unquestionably bad intentions were approaching her, so I took care of them. Would've taken her home, wherever that was, 'cause she was drunk out of her mind and ended up passing out, but I saw that she's from Central City, based on her ID that I found. I had no choice but to take her here," Jason explained, gesturing around the place.

Damian's eyes scanned the room, imagining the teenage girl in this very space... with Jason. To learn that she had been so irresponsible that she'd ended up in the streets, possibly kidnapped or killed in her inebriated state... As much as he wasn't going to admit it, Jess was very lucky Jason had been there. Damian's chest tightened at the thought that something else entirely would have happened if he hadn't been around.

Even worse, he also wouldn't have been there to save her either.

_What am I going to do with you, Jessica?_

"Is that all?"

"Well, just as I suspected, she freaked out the next morning and went all meta-human on me—I'm sure you already knew she's got these fancy powers—but she ended up leaving after making a call."

With startling realization, Damian remembered that Robinson Park was not far from here, meaning that was the day he'd picked her up and she'd been hungover for the first time. This entire time, Jason had been just down the street... She had come from this exact place, and Damian had had no idea at all.

Tension crept into his figure as he stood there, but Jason didn't seem to notice as he continued his story.

"Never saw her again after that until I caught up with her to ask about stardust. I could tell she'd been tweaking on something along with alcohol that first time, so I dug up whatever I could find on her. Did a little recon, found out she used it, and stopped to talk to her after she got another stash from that blond kid. Wasn't very happy to see me, but—"

"Blond kid?"

"Yeah, probably her little boyfriend or something. From what I could find, his name's Kade, and he's her plug, I guess. She wasn't able to give me a whole lot of info though, but... then she mentioned you."

His eyes glinted, making Damian's own gaze narrow in suspicion. "How do you mean?"

"Well, she kept saying shit about constantly running into 'masked heroes,' you know, with the plural, so I asked her who else was paying her visits. And whaddya know, she said I should bother Robin about stardust." He let out a short chuckle. "Yet you're the one who came to me instead. Weird, huh?"

With too many thoughts muddling his mind, Damian attempted to sort through them as he decided he was done there. He felt a little better having more answers than he did before, particularly concerning that day Jess had been less than receptive to his questions about her whereabouts. At least now he knew that she'd gotten herself into more trouble—it was characteristic of her, at this point—and somehow Jason had been the one to lend her help.

But now Damian also knew that Kade had entered her life a lot sooner than he'd thought.

"When was this last encounter with her?"

"Dunno. Couple weeks ago maybe? A month or so?"

With a single nod, he then said, "That's all I need to know." He made his way to the front door then, feeling the older man's gaze following him.

"Damian."

The fact that he was calling his actual name caught him off-guard. After a moment of hesitation, the teen turned to look at Jason, whose face was strangely passive.

"It's been two years."

Damian didn't respond, simply waiting for him to make a point.

"When are you going to... let it go?"

Staring at the floor as if it would give him an answer, he finally said, "When your decisions no longer cost me the ones I love."

Perhaps Jason was going to respond or didn't have anything else to say, but the young man didn't wait around to find out. He shut the door behind him and walked back to the elevator, two years' worth of resentment and hurt following Damian from the apartment and the familiar face that had dug them up from his mental grave.

He'd always wondered if, with time, the wound left behind by that fateful day would eventually heal, and he would move on. But judging by the ache in his bones that was heavy with unpleasant reminders, today was not that day.

* * *

This was either going to go well or badly… very, very badly.

Knee bouncing nervously, Jess checked her watch: it was five minutes to six in the evening… five minutes before she would see a familiar face and a shade of green that she hadn't seen in almost a week. Beside her, a hand reached out to rest on her bouncing knee, followed by a crooked grin that had her stomach doing a somersault.

"That nervous, huh?" Kade asked, gray-blue eyes examining her.

"I guess so," was all she said.

It'd seemed like an okay idea when he'd suggested it yesterday, but now the rising anxiety had her wondering if it was a horrible one instead. After briefly explaining to him the disagreement that'd taken place between her and Damian about stardust, Kade had offered that she reach out to her friend and ask him to hang out with them the next day while a group of people gathered to watch a basketball game.

"Maybe he'll see what we do isn't all that bad," the blond had said with a shrug. "And he can get off your case."

Her hesitation had been immense at first, especially considering she hadn't spoken to Damian at all since that one morning. It'd taken all but thirty minutes staring at her phone, writing and rewriting her text to him, wondering if it sounded too emotionless or too emotional, too mean or too kind, too vague or too straightforward. Not even being on stardust could help her frenzied state as she'd contemplated the best way to get him to consider her proposal. Ultimately, she'd kept it simple:

_I know we're not really on the same page right now but i want to make things right. Would you be willing to hang out with me, Kade, Misty and a few other of their friends tomorrow for a basketball game?_

_Why?_ he'd written plainly.

Jess: _So you can see firsthand what it is that i do with them. you probably have a lot of questions… maybe this will help?_

Damian: _What time?_

Jess: _around 6_

Damian: _I'll think about it._

Her heart had been beating almost painfully within her chest as she'd responded: _Okay. thanks_

And then, after a moment's hesitation, she'd sent him a smiley face, which wasn't unusual in their text conversations, but it'd immediately felt weird and out-of-place, making her wish she hadn't sent it. Would it make her seem ignorant to the seriousness of their ongoing tension? Was he rolling his eyes at it? Or maybe it irritated him?

"Hey."

Jolted from her thoughts, Jess saw cool, gray eyes gazing at her with interest.

Kade reached up and softly pinched her cheek between his fingers. "He's gonna show up, and it'll be fine. We're gonna have a good time, and he'll see everything is harmless and just for fun, alright?" Giving her another smile, he leaned in and gave her a heavy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek he'd pinched.

Face burning, she nodded and blew out a tense sigh. "Yeah, I hope so."

"Kade Noor!"

The two of them turned around to see Misty approaching from the kitchen, where they could hear chatter from the other teens who were diving in to the takeout food that had arrived recently. The girl was scowling, a plate with two slices of pizza in her hand.

"Where's my restock of my favorite energy drink?"

"Uh, my bad, I forgot to grab some," the blond chuckled, earning an eye-roll from her as she made her way towards one of the plastic chairs that'd been set up in the living room.

"You're an experienced host. You can't be slipping up like this."

"I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?"

"My drink, that's what."

"Touché."

Their friendly banter faded into nonexistence as Jess stared at the game that was starting on the large flat-screen ahead of her. She didn't care for the sport and was primarily here to spend time with Kade and Misty, particularly since she was still leaving for Central City by the end of next week. At least, that seemed to be the plan—she hadn't heard from Erin since their last meeting, and with every passing day, the anticipation just seemed to intensify, making her even more dependent on the sparkling dust that sat in front of them on the living room table. Both she and Kade had already consumed a few grams, just enough to help calm her brittle nerves but not enough to make her overly hyper or too relaxed.

And being in either of those states was entirely undesirable to her when Damian could show up at any minute.

Predictably, though, she'd heard from her aunt after Erin had spoken to her. It had been an aggravating "conversation" to the say the least, one that Jess had needed to cut short by hanging up on her. Lora was one of the last people she wanted to hear from after everyone else in her life seemed to be calling her out, and she was getting sick of it. All she wanted was to know what her next steps were, what her punishment was if there would be one, and then she could get on with her life.

All the more reason to do whatever she wanted while she could, right?

The doorbell suddenly ringing had Jess snapping from her thoughts while her heart jumped in her chest at the sound. Both Kade and Misty glanced at her, making her body flood with heat.

"I'll get it," she murmured and stood from the couch, feeling their gazes on her back as she headed to the foyer. Quinn, one of the teens who was in the kitchen, was also heading to the front door.

"I've got it," Jess told her with a smile before reaching for the handle.

She could imagine how weird and awkward it'd be if anyone else there instead of her opened the door up to Damian Wayne. In fact, there was a chance all the other teens knew he was supposed to be showing up, assuming Kade or Misty had said something to them. Jess's friendship with him wasn't a secret at all—a few people here and there had asked her what it was like hanging out with him as if Damian being a social person was taboo and something to gossip about.

"Is he actually like... talkative? Or nice?" some random guy who was a friend of a friend of Kade's had asked her once.

"Um... yeah, he is," she'd answered with an awkward laugh, "to me at least."

Hand shaking slightly, she gripped the handle and readied herself with a deep breath. Then she pulled it open, seeing him standing there in all his distinctive handsomeness and ebony hair, arms crossed like usual. His emerald greens had been fixated on something near the door, but once she'd opened it, they immediately fell onto her, sending a twisting feeling into her gut.

There was something else: a shadow was on his temple, standing out against his skin like some kind of faded bruise. She wanted to point it out, but her voice seemed to catch in her throat.

A long moment of silence seemed to pass until she managed to say, "Hi."

He never removed his gaze from hers. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't look away. "I'm not here to stay."

She opened her mouth to speak but then found herself looking behind her. Everyone who'd gathered in the living room instantly looked away—obviously they'd been watching the encounter. It was only Kade and Misty who glanced in their direction again, and Jess instantly felt exposed.

Stepping outside, she shut the door behind her and looked up at Damian, who was still regarding her with a careful stare.

"Can we go somewhere more private?" he then asked.

Not responding, Jess's eyes roamed the front yard and landed on his car, which was parked along the street. It seemed to be the only viable option around, so she gestured toward it with an inquisitive look.

When she got comfortable in the passenger seat, she crossed her arms and sunk down, overcome with nervousness again. The thick tension between them, emanating from her left side, was bothersome, and she was finding it difficult to even glance in his direction. Wood and amber lingered at her nose—it sent nostalgia through her after days of not having come across it.

So he wasn't even planning on staying, was he?

"Is that a bruise?"

She glanced over now and could see that Damian wasn't looking at her; he was facing forward, gaze probably on something ahead of them.

"It's nothing."

"Oh, come on, Damian..."

Acting on an urge within her, she reached out and hovered her hand just inches from the mark—but not before glancing around the neighborhood and at the house windows to ensure no one was looking.

"Jessica, don't. I'm fine."

Offended, she furrowed her brows and paused her hand. Why was he refusing her help? "Let me—"

As soon as she moved her hand closer, his own fingers wrapped around her forearm all of a sudden, and then he was pushing her arm away, emerald greens flashing at her. "I said that I'm fine."

Hurt shot through Jess as she took her hand back and rested in her lap, turning to face out the windshield again. As much as she wanted to know why he had the bruise, all she cared about at that moment was healing it.

But he didn't want her to. Was it because they weren't... okay?

Swallowing past the lump forming in her throat, she did her best to shove aside the negative feelings that had already started in deep in her chest.

"What did you come here for if it isn't to stay?"

Instead of responding, he reached for his back pocket and retrieved a mailing envelope. He handed it to her, eliciting a raised brow from the brunette.

It was sealed with her name written legibly on the front, clearly his neat penmanship. She couldn't have guessed what it was if she'd tried, so she proceeded to open it, feeling his eyes on her. Fingers trembling, she pulled what appeared to be a single piece of paper folded inside, thick and smooth like it was expensive.

Hazel eyes running over the fancily lettering and the seal printed at the top, Jess was aware of the blood pounding in her ears. She then saw the signature scrawled at the bottom, followed by three names printed almost loudly:

_Respectfully,_

_Bruce Thomas Wayne_

Tightness tugged at her throat and chest, making it hard to breathe, and she lost hearing for a moment. Her vision blurred, and it took a few moments for her to realize it was because she was tearing up. Was this really what she thought it was?

"I've been holding on to this for a few weeks now," Damian spoke up, his voice strangely calm and almost gentle, like he didn't want to contribute to her obvious fragility. "I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you."

And this was the right moment?

She couldn't even ask; a single tear had escaped, falling from her chin to the letter of recommendation from Bruce about Gotham Academy on _her_ behalf… along with a full-ride scholarship.

For her.

_Her._

Jessica Wynn Fairchild, her stupid, juvenile delinquent name written as clear as day in the first paragraph. Her name didn't belong on something like this; it was a name that was printed on court documents... It was a name that'd been printed on milk cartons when she'd run away.

"After last weekend... I almost changed my mind."

His words sent a pang of pain through her heart. She dropped the letter into her lap, looking up and staring out of the windshield as memories of their last encounter flitted through her mind, reminding her of how agitated he'd been with her.

_He almost took it back._

Because he didn't believe she deserved her second chance.

"_Well then, it looks like I was wrong… Perhaps you don't deserve another chance."_

God, she could barely breathe. Jess forced herself to take a deep breath and closed her eyes, wishing the sudden weight in her chest and heart would go away. She knew he was still watching her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, not when she felt so defenseless and on the verge of breaking down. She'd managed to hold herself together all this time for the last several days, but it wouldn't have been surprising if being with him managed to be the one thing that broke the dam.

"Why?" Her voice was raspy due to the tightness still in her throat from trying not to cry.

"I didn't want to give it to you because you're throwing away your second—"

"No, why this?"

She opened her eyes and held up the letter though still not looking at him. Sniffling, Jess reached up and wiped at the wetness on her cheeks. "Why… why would you do this for me?" she clarified.

There was a pause, then: "I think you know why, Jessica."

Annoyance bit at her. "No, I don't, Damian. Why?"

He didn't answer, not even after she waited several long moments.

"Out of everything you've done for me… this is… I don't get it," she went on, flustered. This was literal _money_ he and Bruce wanted to give her. This was… far too much. Hot frustration surged through her swiftly. "_Dammit_, why would you—?"

"Because I want you to _stay._"

His voice had risen unexpectedly, causing her to glance at him in alarm. He was still staring intensely ahead of him, jaw set stubbornly with a vein popping out of his neck due to the rigidity in his figure. Stress gripped his shoulders as they rose and fell with the breaths he was trying to take.

Stunned, Jess said nothing as she continued to watch him.

He wanted her to… stay.

And suddenly it all made sense. How willing and open he'd been to her silly list of "little things" to do in Gotham, how much time they'd been trying to spend together before she left, the way he'd seemed to open up to her after a summer of getting to know each other, that look he'd given her on the manor roof when she'd listed all the things in their friendship she'd miss… It all made sense. This was his way of finally saying what he'd never been able to actually express, wasn't it?

Exhaling sharply, Damian looked down at his steering wheel, the space between his brows wrinkling. "I… I don't want you to leave," he said slowly and carefully, like he wasn't sure he wanted to utter the words aloud.

She couldn't comprehend the situation enough to find something to respond with. Her brain was working as hard as it could to decipher the fact that he'd said such a thing when she saw him look towards her—but he wasn't looking _at_ her; his gaze was narrowing slightly at something past Jess's head.

Kade was approaching the car, a soda can in his hand. He wore a questioning look, and Jess remembered that she'd been crying; she reached up to wipe underneath her eyes as she rolled down the window.

"Sorry for the interruption," he started, splitting a glance between the two in the car. "Just, uh, making sure things are good."

Tossing him a forced smile as she leaned a little out the window, Jess answered, "We're fine. I'll…" She glanced at Damian, who had looked away with a disinterested expression. Turning back to Kade, she continued, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

His gaze lingering on Damian as he bent down to look at him, he gave a nod. "Cool. You coming, too, Wayne?"

Green eyes that seemed to burn with something met the cool, gray eyes waiting for an answer. Maybe she was imagining it, but Jess could've sworn she felt some kind of static between the two as she sat there, watching their exchange.

"I can't stay, but thank you for the invitation."

His tone was smooth, but she knew better than to miss the sourness that tinted it. Whether the blond could detect it, too, she wasn't sure.

Kade didn't seem to notice as he waved a hand and offered a kind grin. "No worries, man. Maybe next time." Without warning, he stepped forward and planted a kiss on Jess's face—she hadn't expected it, so it landed on the corner of her mouth, but he seemed unworried by the sloppiness, walking backwards as he tossed her a wink. "Don't be too long. Pizza's getting cold."

And then he was leaving, his last minute gesture making the heat rise in her face as she avoided looking at Damian, who'd undoubtedly witnessed it.

"You know he did that in front of me on purpose," the older teen said flatly, an oddly cold smirk on his face.

Brows furrowing, Jess gave him a mild glare. "No, he didn't." Did he really think Kade was that petty?

Damian looked over at her, emerald greens sparkling like they were laughing.

"Seriously, Damian. Not everything is about you, you know."

The spark disappeared from his eyes, replaced quickly by heat. "You are incredibly naive, Jessica. That's why you're tangled up in this mess."

"Excuse me?"

He went on without a hesitation, like he'd recited the words beforehand. "You can't see that he is not good for you. He's the reason you began stardust, correct? And would I be wrong if I were to guess that it was also his idea for you to invite me to this gathering today?"

Hazel eyes narrowed at him defensively, and her heart was thumping harder with growing resentment. "What are you getting at?"

"You cannot think for yourself," Damian deadpanned, his gaze emboldened with determination. "It's what got you in trouble with the law in the first place—as you said, you got caught up with the wrong crowd. And you're doing it again."

Clenching her teeth and heart pounding, Jess glanced down at the letter still sitting in her lap and then back up at him, a newfound sense of indignation coming over her. How dare he attack her like this again?

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here and thinking you can keep talking to me like that," she responded icily. "I don't know what you were trying to accomplish, but—"

"I wanted to tell you what you needed to hear."

"And what's that?"

"The truth."

Rolling her eyes, Jess scoffed. She had the urge to get out of the car now, to pace or to just move around because she was _suffocating_ in here. "The truth isn't supposed to be disguised as insults, Damian. I know you're trying to get me to stop using stardust, but honestly, you're just giving me more reason to use it at this point."

She knew that'd put him off. A glance in his direction showed that he was glaring at her, his brows knitted together.

"I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself."

"Jessica, listen to me. His brother has a history of serious drug-related offenses, and Kade himself has abusing substances for years. He's not good for you—"

"Yeah? Well, I'm beginning to think you aren't either," she countered loudly, the words spilling without restraint. She hadn't even listened to a word he'd said, focused only on how adamant he was being about Kade.

His eyes might've widened a little at her words—she didn't know nor did she care, and frankly, she couldn't tell through the cloud of aggravation surrounding her. The bitter anger was taking control now, and her grip on her emotions was slipping… fast.

Holding up Bruce's letter, she irritably added, "And that's enough to make me not want to stay."

With that, Jess threw it at him and hurriedly got out of the car, unintentionally slamming the door before storming up the driveway. A second later, something closed around her wrist—she hadn't even heard his door open or close let alone his obviously quick footsteps—and she spun around to see his fingers wrapped around it.

Darkened, green eyes drilled into her as he held her in place, and somehow, in some way, they managed to get her to pause… just for a moment. And that was all he needed.

"Jess."

The single syllable, a version of her full name that he had never spoken before, made her breath catch in her throat as they stared at each other, his hand still encircling her wrist and her body turned away. Damian's grasp was gentle despite how swiftly he'd grabbed it, almost as gentle as the look he was giving her, a stark contrast to all the glares he had been offering freely in the car. His touch was surprisingly warm, and for whatever reason, it was sending tingles up her arm.

He looked like he wanted to say more, his lips slightly parted as Jess waited… and waited.

"Do we have a problem here?"

Startled out of her skin (they'd really been in their own little world, standing there and looking at one another), she saw that Kade was standing outside the front door. Compared to earlier, that easygoing expression he usually wore was gone and replaced by taunting, gray-blue eyes and a mouth set in a hard line. Next to her, Damian didn't even spare him a glance; his gaze was still on her, something vulnerable tugging at his features, a softness she had only witnessed a few times.

_Why are you looking at me like that?_

"Jess…" Kade called, his voice low with a warning note in his tone.

Glancing down at the strong hand around her wrist, she slowly pulled it from her friend's grasp. As much as she didn't want to meet his eyes, she couldn't help it. A part of her had expected to see them filled with sadness or something like it at her taking her hand back; instead, she was met with a demeanor that she knew too well but caught her off-guard nonetheless. Damian's face was stoic now, hardened and stone-cold like the walls he almost always had up around him. It was like her pulling away had triggered his defense mechanism… and just like that, at the flip of a switch, he was distant again.

Distant and cold.

Wordlessly, Jess tore her eyes from his and headed towards Kade. He was still standing there, looking at Damian, as she entered the doorway, so she reached out and took his forearm to pull him inside. Her chest was heavy, so heavy, as she avoided all the eyes on her then headed to Kade's room down the hall. The blond was right behind her, and as soon as he closed the door, everything inside her broke.

She felt his arms wrap around her through her sobs, all the built-up pain and frustration spilling out from within. That look that'd been on her friend's face—no matter how hard she tried, it felt like it was printed permanently in her mind's eye, and the longer she saw it, the more it hurt.

How was it possible that someone she'd known for all of a summer had found his way so deep in her heart, enough to make her feel and hurt this way?

* * *

**Note:** well, quite a bit happened in this chapter, and there's still more to come lol for some reason, i always have a good time writing altercations and disagreements between characters. there's just something exciting about it—i swear i was chuckling to myself every time i read through all the mean dialogue smh. obviously some more stuff about Damian's past was revealed here, and it'll be coming up again in the future, esp. as things progress with him and Jess :P

FUN FACT: Jess's main "love language" is "quality time," meaning she likes when people close to her spend time with her, but on the other hand, she tends to show her love through "physical touch" (remember when she first gave Damian a hug and also held his hand? there are other instances of her physical gestures with him if you can remember them hehe)

as for Damian, i feel like he also likes to get quality time as well as "words of affirmation," although he shows his love through gifts or nice gestures since it's probably harder for him to be touchy and express himself with words. (like the time he got ice skates for Jess and, in this chapter, the letter from Bruce to help her get into the academy... i think we all know that deep down he can be sweet and he's just trying his best to express his love and affection! *pretend there's a heart emoji here since this site doesn't let you do emojis*)

anyway, if you have no idea what i'm talking about with love languages, i suggest you look it up! finding out which ones you connect with can really help you understand your relationships with your loved ones :) i found out that i like to give and receive words of affirmation as well as physical touch haha

thank you again for all the love, xx


	26. Two Lies, One Truth

_"Im trying my best_

_I'm trying my best to be okay_

_I'm trying my best,_

_but every day, it's so hard_

_And I'm holding my breath 'til I can say_

_all of the words I want to say from my heart"_

_~ Anson Seabra, "Trying My Best"_

* * *

**Chapter 26: Two Lies, One Truth**

She was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed as she stared unseeingly at the cabinets. Her mind was completely elsewhere, images of darkened, green eyes boring into her while his voice echoed words that had injected hurt under her skin. Why was this happening between them? Would they be able to fix it? If so... how? At the same time, her brain and body were fuzzy with both alcohol and stardust, a combination she'd needed after the altercation from the other day.

It'd been a little embarrassing going back out to the living room with the other teens most likely knowing the basics of what'd happened, so she'd felt the need to overload her senses with anything that wasn't pain since then. Misty had texted her privately and asked if she was okay, to which Jess had said she was fine. But the other girl had kept glancing at her for the rest of the day, letting Jess know her lie hadn't gone unnoticed. Misty had also suggested Jess hang out with her yesterday and today—maybe she didn't want her friend around Kade? Did that have something to do with how she felt about her using stardust?

At the moment, Jess didn't really care. She was at Kade's again anyway after a short work shift, intent on drowning herself in a few beers and grams of the white dust that was ripping her life apart.

A pair of arms snaked around her waist from behind her along with a warm mouth under her ear, startling her. The faint scents of aftershave and sharp cologne drifted to Jess's nose as she turned her head, seeing a familiar, sly grin.

"What're you doin' in here?" Kade asked in a low voice. "Lost in thought?"

"Something like that," she responded with a short, dry laugh that felt unnatural.

His touch was sending burning sensations all over her skin. He straightened up and spun her around to face him, dilated, icy eyes examining her. Like her, he was a little intoxicated but not quite drunk.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Both of his hands made their way to cup her face, and she found it difficult to meet his gaze as doubt made her pause. "I guess I'm still... you know, thinking about the other day."

A shadow seemed to fall over his attractive features, similarly to the expression he'd worn when he'd seen Damian grabbing her wrist.

"Nah, fuck him," Kade said casually as he tucked her hair behind her ear. "All he's done is make you cry, and he obviously doesn't care about what you think or how you feel."

Jess was quiet as she considered his words. Did Damian really not care for her like she'd thought he did? To say he "obviously" didn't care about what she thought or felt seemed untrue, yet...

"Jess." He was lifting her chin now, making her look at him. The way his cool gaze was running over her face made something stir in her gut. "Forget him, okay? He's making you sad, and I don't like you being sad."

She felt a small smile growing on her face then, which had the corner of his mouth quirking up in response. "There's that smile I like." She didn't have a chance to respond because Kade was kissing her, his fingers still holding her chin and other hand dropping to her waist.

Since that day he'd first kissed her in his car, Jess had learned that he was often affectionate: he would always hold her hand, sling an arm around her shoulders, plant random kisses on her face, pinch her cheeks. Not that she was complaining; he made her blush often, especially when he was doing these things around other people, but that just meant he wasn't afraid of public affection. Although, for a girl who'd never been in an actual relationship, the experience was still unusual and new to her, so she was simply trying to enjoy it while she could before going back home.

Jess had gone up on her tiptoes, a habit she'd had to get used to, considering he was nearly six feet tall. Her hand found its place behind his neck, but before she could do anything else, Kade was then stepping forward, forcing her to retreat until the small of her back hit what was probably the kitchen counter. Without warning, he broke the kiss and bent down to grab her waist and lift her onto it, bringing her to his height. His hands found her bare knees, nudging them apart to let him stand between them, and then they traced up her legs to push up the hem of her skirt, leaving a trail of fire the whole way.

"Anyone ever tell you that you have amazing legs?" he murmured below her ear.

Something about the gesture or his words, or even both, had chills erupting all over her neck and down her spine. "No," she managed to respond, feeling strangely out-of-breath. "Must be all those years skating."

Pulling back to look at her with his fingers wrapped around both sides of her waist, he yanked her closer to the edge of the counter, up against his body. Kade's eyes were latched on to her lips briefly before he met them with his own again—Jess was overwhelmed with not only the electric sensations he was giving her but also the lingering effects of the alcohol and stardust; her mind felt muddy and sluggish yet on fire at the same time if that even made any sense. She was almost clumsy in the way she reached up to hold his face between her hands.

The next thing she knew, his warm mouth was traveling to her jaw then to her neck, down, down, while a hand snuck up, up, holding on to the edge of her shirt and tugging it over her head. She lifted her arms without question, feeling strands of hair fall around her face while he dropped the piece of clothing on the counter beside her. Things were certainly happening quickly; this was progressing further than they'd ever gone before now. Her stomach was churning with butterflies as his dilated gaze ran over her upper body, ablaze with a look that had a tiny voice of insecurity poking through her hazy thoughts.

Goosebumps rising all over the skin that was suddenly exposed, Jess let him kiss her again as his hand began slipping past the edge of her skirt once more. That same voice, coupled with doubt, was nagging her further, but she did her best to ignore it, shoving it as far back as she could. Still, it only intensified the moment his fingers found the edge of her underwear near her—

"Wait."

Heart racing with anxiety and having broken the kiss, she placed her hand on his and shifted it down her leg, away from where he'd been about to do something that set off alarms in her head. Kade straightened up, raising a brow at her but never removing his fingers from her thigh.

"Something wrong?" he asked, chilled gaze examining her face.

"I..."

Her brain felt like it was skipping in its function—stardust and alcohol aside—preventing her from gathering her thoughts into something more coherent.

"Did you kiss me on purpose in front of Damian?"

The words had slipped out completely against her will; she hadn't even been thinking about that moment in Damian's car, when he'd pretty much accused Kade of being petty. So why'd her moronic mouth blurt it out?

Gray-blues widened and then narrowed. "You're not seriously asking me that, are you?"

She couldn't respond against the abrupt lump in her throat.

Sighing exasperatedly, Kade reached up to rub at his face. "I don't see how that matters, Jess. Why are you even thinking about that right now?"

Jess turned her eyes down to her hands in her lap, feeling a chill envelop her bare arms and stomach. "I don't know..."

"Have you been thinking about him this whole time?" Bitterness seemed to have crept into his voice, which had her glancing up to see that irritation had furrowed his brows together.

"No, I just—it was something he'd said after you came to check on us that first time—"

A short laugh escaped from him as he stepped back and threw up his hands. "He really hates me, doesn't he?"

"He doesn't _'hate'_ you, Kade..."

"Yeah? Then why is he making such a big deal about you using stardust? And why does he always look like he wants to beat my ass every time he and I are even within a few feet of each other? Jesus, I barely know the guy, but somehow he doesn't like me."

"It's not like that. He's just worried about me—"

"And he has a funny way of showing it. I have to admit: I don't know a damn thing about him, but I already don't like the guy based on the way he's treating you." His cool eyes rested on her steadily with annoyance bright in them.

The escalation of the situation had Jess's body heating with tension and even surprise at how Kade was acting. She'd only seen him miffed one other time, but it'd been at his brother; he had never shown any negative feelings towards her, so this was certainly feeling out of left field.

A spark of discomfort erupted across her nerves. "Yeah, he can be pretty blunt and rude sometimes, but... he never means anything bad by it," she urged. For some reason, she was less irritated and more offended at Kade's accusation. "He's been nice to me since we met even though—"

She stopped abruptly. _Even though I told him some of the worst parts of myself... Even though I'm starting to go off-track. He's still around._

"Do you hear yourself? You just said he's been nice to you, but I'm pretty sure he's the one making you cry lately."

Jess tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat. "Yeah, but..."

_But it's because he cares... isn't it?_

He gave another sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his features softening. "Let's just... forget about him, okay? For real this time. Obviously, you're stressed out and talking about this isn't helping." His hand made its way to her face as he stepped closer and appraised her the way he had minutes ago. In a lowered voice, Kade added, "Let me take your mind off everything," leaning down to tenderly bite the skin under her ear.

But she couldn't shake the ache that had settled in her chest, making it hard for her to even attempt releasing all the unease from their little disagreement. Maybe his gesture would have shot more tingles through her body, but instead, it had her gently pushing him away.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't," she told him softly with a shake of her head.

"Give me a damn break, Jess," he said tiredly, straightening up to look at her. "I'm just trying to help you out."

Unable to meet his gaze, Jess responded, "I know... but I'm not in the mood anymore."

"You gonna be in the mood some other time before you leave?"

Confusion hit her as her brows furrowed, and she finally looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Kade appeared puzzled as well, gesturing between them. "Um, I thought I was giving you some pretty obvious signs. I mean, I know this is temporary, but..." Before she could react, he pushed his fingers underneath the hem of her skirt again, moving them up to lift the bottom edge of her underwear and snap it against her skin. "Figured we'd make the most of it."

Jess felt heat flood her face along with the immediate urge to put her shirt back on. "Oh..." she managed to say. "I, um, I..."

_Damn, Jess, you really are clueless._

The slightest smirk lifted the corner of Kade's mouth at her stuttering. "Guess I should be clearer next time. But hey, you don't have to say anything about it now. We can just... see how things play out?"

She nodded, speechless.

"And..." His other hand reached to tuck her hair behind her ear as his gaze ran over her face. "I didn't mean to bad-mouth him or upset you. I'm just pissed you guys are going through that, alright?"

Still unable to say anything, Jess let him envelop her in a hug, his arms wrapping around her almost-naked upper body. She leaned into the embrace, resting her chin over his shoulder—he was warm considering her exposed skin had erupted in goosebumps from the cool air. His words had calmed her a little, but she still couldn't shake the leftover negativity their mild disagreement had given her.

And his expectations between them that he'd voiced... Jess had certainly missed the signs, but in a way, it made sense, didn't it? While they weren't actually officially dating, their exclusivity and recognition of how it would be short-term had been mutual, and today had been the furthest they'd ever gone in terms of affection. Maybe someone else in her position would make a sort of "Why not?" decision and figure they might as well use the opportunity to do what they wanted, knowing the whole thing was short-lived anyway. Still, she wasn't quite sure how she felt about what Kade apparently wanted... Perhaps she'd feel differently within the next several days, but her initial gut feeling was that she had never foreseen this in their temporary "relationship."

It didn't mean she couldn't change her mind.

Kade was pulling back now, hands sliding down to rest on both sides of her waist. "How about I make it up to you?"

"How so?"

"Whatever you want. Food? A beer? We can put on a movie?" He raised his brows, a smile forming on his face. "Another gram?"

The image of Damian holding up the nearly-empty baggie of stardust flashed in her mind, his frustrated, green eyes staring at her.

"I could go for some food," she finally answered, forcing herself to return Kade's smile (and shove away the memory that'd decided to visit). "We can just order in."

Taking her shirt from the counter and handing it to her, the blond grinned and said, "I'll go grab my phone."

Once he was gone and Jess was no longer shirtless, her phone was in her hands with no notifications from anyone... though she'd only checked to see if a specific person had reached out to her. The next thing she knew, she was opening a particular text conversation, her thumbs hovering over the screen as her brain attempted to put together any combination of words, anything that would... well, she didn't even know. All she knew was that she wanted to say _something_.

"Jess?" Kade called a minute later from the living room.

"Coming!"

Glancing back down at her phone, Jess thought for a long moment before holding down the backspace button until the message she'd written out was gone. She hopped off the counter and put the device away, heading out to the living room with her unsaid words burning both in her pocket and in her mind.

* * *

"I think you should do it."

Misty looked up from her bowl of ramen, dark eyes landing on Jess across the dining table. The two of them were at her house again, mere days closer to Jess's departure to Central City. The brunette had just finished meeting with Erin, during which they'd spoken to Lora about what would happen with her probation.

In short, Jess had two options: extend everything she'd been doing by another two months or pay a hefty amount of money.

Lora had settled on the latter, no questions asked.

"You can't afford to delay your education again," she'd said to the teen during the call. "Plus, this is just another pile of paperwork that isn't worth you not finishing your last year. We can discuss how you'll repay that amount when you get back."

And so Jess's initial plans hadn't changed; she was going back to Central City in less than a week... yet there was something that could still potentially alter her entire plan.

"The scholarship thing, I mean," Misty clarified after slurping from her bowl. "It's literally the only way you can stay and not go back home... _and_ go to the academy with me." She tossed her friend a sly smile.

"I don't know..." Jess mused, staring intently at the noodles she was trying to twist around her fork. "Like I said, it's too much. I don't even know how I'd repay him and his dad..."

Plus, how did her friend manage to convince his father to go as far as securing something this kind and generous for her?

"Sounds like you'd have to ask Damian that."

She couldn't help the scoff that escaped her. "Yeah, right..."

Yet she couldn't deny that she was pretty curious about it. The most about herself Jess had ever revealed to Bruce was that she'd gone through "a lot of tough things the last few years" that had set her back in school and life in general. It was definitely a watered-down version of the truth, but even while she felt she trusted him to a certain extent (and his son even more), she still had no desire to run around telling people everything about herself. Even Misty continued to be in the dark when it came to Jess being a meta-human.

Her friend was silent for several moments, so when Jess looked up at her, she saw that the other girl was keeping her gaze on her food. "What?"

Heaving a sigh, Misty put down her fork and sat back in her chair. "Okay, so I'm not going to make the same mistake that I did before. I'm going to tell you right now... that I think you should patch things up with Damian. And, like I just mentioned, that you should take the scholarship."

"But I have no idea how I'm supposed to have a conversation with him without things escalating the way they have..."

"Dude. Just tell him to shut up for a second and let you talk. I'm sure you guys can be mature enough to hear each other out."

Jess didn't respond. Were they really capable of doing that? She certainly didn't want to get into another argument with him... The mere thought made her uneasy and almost sad again. Although their last meeting had been two days ago, the frustration it'd left her with still lingered in her mind.

"If you're really gonna stick to going back home," Misty added with a raised brow, "you wouldn't wanna leave with you guys on a bad note, right?"

No. She really wouldn't like that at all.

"I know... I mean, I'll try talk to him. I just have to figure out what to say." Jess's voice was quiet as she stared out the window, watching a group of kids walking a dog down the street.

Misty was clearing her throat. "He, uh, came by to talk to me, you know."

Hazel irises snapped towards her, wide with mild alarm. "No, I didn't know that. When? Why?"

The other teen met her gaze, her own softening with slight awkwardness. "This was after you two had that first, uh, argument. He wanted to know if I'd known about, um, you using."

_Of course he did._ Why did that somehow sound so like him?

At first, this news irritated her. It felt like a major overstep on Damian's part, like he was further invading her business that he had no right to stick his nose in. Instead of asking Jess herself, he'd gone to her friend. Why?

_Probably 'cause you weren't able to hold an actual conversation the first time._

"He really cares about you, Jess. I can tell," Misty was saying, her tone amiable. "And you already know what I think... Damian's just, well, a little too harsh with trying to get through to you.

"But I do think he has a point, at least with the whole 'second chance' thing. I wouldn't go as far as agreeing that you're naive and can't think for yourself—that was pretty below-the-belt for him. Anyway, what I'm saying is: you were always saying you thought your community service and probation in general were too light for the things you did...

"So, like, why are you continuing to do things that are disrupting all that, you know?"

The air was silent between them for a short while, Jess feeling that familiar sting in her eyes at her friend's words.

"Are you... trying to get a more... _severe_ punishment?"

Was what she was doing a form of self-sabotage? _Was_ she trying to make things worse for herself?

"I already told you, Misty," Jess finally answered, her voice shaking a little. "I started it because I... felt like I needed it. I needed something to help with—"

She stopped, unable to finish her sentence. It wasn't like she hadn't expected Misty to bring up all of this again. But anticipating her friend to express her thoughts about Jess's use of stardust on top of her strained relationship with Damian, apprehension about her probation as well as dreading going back home—it'd all just been too much lately. The last few days, she hadn't been sleeping well, falling asleep late and waking up too early, becoming distracted more easily, constantly worrying about everything that felt like was going wrong...

The ongoing stress had done nothing good but have her relying on the little, white crystals more frequently than she had been before. And one of the biggest differences was that she'd have a voice in the back of her head now, making her question her use of it and _almost_ pause.

A voice that sounded a lot like _his_.

"I get that, Jess, I really do. But maybe there are some other ways to help you? You know, healthier ones..."

"Yeah... maybe," was all Jess could say as she blew out a deep sigh and put her fork back into the bowl, willing the faint stinging behind her eyes to go away.

Misty spun noodles around her fork before speaking up again, hesitation on her features. "You know how you said you don't even know how you'd repay Damian and his dad if you took that offer?"

"Yeah?"

"I have no idea if Bruce would ask anything of you, but... I think I have a good guess when it comes to what Damian would want."

Jess glanced up to see her friend regarding her with a knowing look, and she knew exactly what she'd meant by that: quitting stardust would be the price she'd pay for basically accepting a literal ticket to staying in Gotham.

"_Because I want you to stay."_

"I'd have to convince my aunt," Jess found herself saying. "But I can't get over the fact that I really don't believe I deserve it."

"Then I guess you have to earn it."

That sentence stuck with Jess even as she went back to the facility and sat on her bed, staring at an old photo of her with her parents that she'd had framed but kept stashed away in the dresser. She was aware of the other half of the room being bare and unoccupied, which had given her an overwhelming sense of loneliness since Misty had moved out. It didn't help the dejection and heartache that filled her chest as she gazed at Portia and Ian Fairchild's smiling faces, silently asking questions she knew she'd never get to ask them.

_What do you think I deserve? How did I manage to get myself into this position again? Do you think it's even worth a shot?_

_What should I do?_

Her vision blurred as she set the frame down before her and brought her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them. Like always, doing so barely helped the metaphorical hole in her chest that throbbed, but she did it anyway because what else would make her feel any better?

Jess immediately thought of those damned sparkling crystals, feelings of guilt and shame following quickly. Seeing her parents' faces only seemed to make her feel worse—she could only imagine how upset and disappointed they'd be if they saw her now, if they'd known that she relied on the white powder as much as she did. Even now, she was continuing to let them down. First, not being able to remain strong after the accident, then running away, the gang... and now this. When would she ever be better and really fulfill this second chance?

Could she even do it at all?

* * *

"Thanks for all your hard work, Jessica," Matthew told her, eyes sparkling. "You've certainly improved very much since you first began."

"Thanks. I appreciate that." Jess gave him a smile just as he extended his hand for a handshake.

"I hope you continue to spend lots of time around books and develop a love for classification as I have!"

The man hurried off after a corny salute, and the teen let out a sigh. Her final, three-hour shift at Gotham's library had ended for the day, meaning this was most likely the last time she'd ever step foot within this building for a long while... maybe ever. She'd spent the last several weeks continuing her duties alone since Damian had quit volunteering, but a small part of her had grown to accept the solitude and almost not mind shelving the library's inventory and moving things around for rearrangement.

Now, she was completely done with community service, her temporary job, tutoring, every responsibility that had fallen on her shoulders for the summer. There were only a handful of days left until she'd board a plane back to Central City.

And the dread that followed the thought of doing so grew ever so prominent in her gut the closer the date became.

Shrugging her light jacket over her shoulders, Jess made her way from the back of the library to the front, bidding her goodbyes to the few people she had grown used to seeing. None of them she'd ever really spoken to much besides occasional conversation and requesting help with things, but somehow, there was still something about the place that she felt like she would miss, strangely enough.

She was then passing the new location of the special collections, a separate room that required employee access through the card reader on the door. Seeing it made her pause in her steps, eyes sweeping over the familiar bookshelves and display cases arranged neatly past the heavy, glass door. Memories slipped into her mind from the one day she'd had to help move a number of things there—because it was just fitting she'd have to end up doing work in the very section she'd committed a crime, right?

_"Jessica."_

_His voice had her jumping a little as she stood in the old space where all the special collections items were held. Everything looked nearly the exact same as it had when she'd been here with Beth and Francis except for the number of boxes scattered about, ready to be filled. When Matthew had assigned her and Damian to help pack things up, anxiety and nervousness had started deep in the pit of her stomach, and part of her had wanted to come up with some excuse to get out of it._

_Family emergency? Didn't feel too well? Suddenly allergic to books?_

_Damian stepped into her view, making her tear her gaze from the back of the room where Beth and Francis had betrayed her. His green eyes seemed to be examining her, trying to read why she was standing there like a dork. "Are you alright?"_

_"Y-yeah. I'm fine, just... zoning out," Jess managed to respond as she attempted to shake the memories from her head._

_"Are you sure?"_

_Something in his tone had her meeting his eyes again, which only made her feel like he was seeing past her little white lie._

He can read you, remember? _an inner voice reminded her._

_Trying to ignore how hard her heart was pounding, Jess found herself walking a few steps further into the room as her gaze ran over the bookshelves nearby. "Um... Do you remember what I said about what I'm doing here in Gotham? Why I'm here... at the library?"_

_He simply nodded once, the expression on his face patient._

_Her body seemed to move on its own; she was heading towards the exact same display case she'd helped Beth steal from, her heart jumping into her throat when her eyes fell upon the same books, too._

_"We weren't going to keep you around forever," the blonde woman_—_who Jess had been convinced, once, actually cared about her_—_had said in this room. "You have this incredible power, Jess, but we weren't going to let you use it against us at any moment... And now we can't take the risk anymore. I really am sorry."_

_"Jessica." Damian was at her side again, having followed her. It felt like it took a lot of strength to look away from the display and make eye contact with him. Both his eyes and voice were amiable, like he somehow knew that she was going through something. "Where are you right now?"_

_His question didn't make sense at first, but then Jess realized how obvious it was that she was reliving one of her worst mistakes_—_or had this been her best decision?_ _She was clenching her teeth and taking labored breaths in and out of her nose, chest rising with them._

_"It was right here," she told him, her voice having dropped to barely above a whisper as she looked at the display again. "This is where I_—_this is the exact place I made the decision to change my life for the better."_

_To stop running. To do better_—be _better._

_"I turned myself in here."_

_After a few moments, she heard him say softly, "And you did the right thing."_

_Glancing up, she saw those emerald greens regarding her with a look she wasn't sure she'd really seen on him before. A hint of it had been there in the days following Titus's burial, even when she'd confessed to him in the manor kitchen the deepest truths about herself... but now, at this moment, it was much more evident. It sent a comforting warmth through her that she accepted right then and there because, for some reason, she felt like she needed it._

_It was a lot like admiration._

* * *

Bruce had grown fairly used to seeing Jess around the manor. She'd been around so often over the last few months that he was hardly ever surprised to walk into the kitchen to find her and Damian eating or to hear their voices debating a movie they'd just finished in the theater when he passed by in the hall. It wasn't quite unusual seeing his son hang around someone as much as he had been, considering the other few, past relationships that he'd developed, but the sight was bittersweet nonetheless.

And one of the very reasons that made it "bitter" had come to Bruce's mind once he'd noticed that she wasn't coming around anymore. Of course, he'd already known something had gone wrong that day he and Selina had nearly run into the girl on the stairs, and Damian had confirmed it in his newfound determination in the stardust case. For reasons Bruce could only guess, Jess had fallen into the drug's trap, so now his son was hellbent on pulling her out of it, creating a rift between them that was likely contributing to why he hadn't seen the teens together in several days. And naturally, the older Wayne was a little worried, seeing how old habits were once more finding control over Damian, something that he himself had experienced one too many times.

Jason's apparent return to the city certainly didn't help, Bruce knew. If anything, his connection to Jess had probably rubbed salt into the wound that was already between her and Damian—or like old wounds were arising once again.

Not that the mention of his other son didn't affect him either. Hearing from Damian that Jason was back had resurfaced memories that Bruce had locked away, reminding him that he hadn't seen or heard from him in too long... not since those two had let a particular experience drive a deep wedge between them. Having nearly everyone except Alfred and Damian eventually leave the manor had been a learning albeit saddening curve in itself, but knowing there existed this web of strained relationships among the family made all things feel much more distant.

Bruce heaved a sigh, clearing the muddled thoughts from his mind as he pushed himself up to his feet. He'd been doing yard work for most of the afternoon; after a few hours, his t-shirt and jeans were stained with grass and dirt, and a warm shower was most definitely in order.

While he pulled off the gloves and surveyed the backyard before him, he was suddenly aware of another presence. Jess was on the back porch, waiting just beyond the patio doors, hesitation in her figure. She was dressed casually in a cropped hoodie and leggings, hair nearly falling out of its bun.

"Hi," she finally said with a timid smile. "Um, I hope I'm not interrupting."

"You're not. But you just missed Damian—he's out running a few errands for Alfred." Bruce returned the smile.

Hazel eyes widened a little as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Oh, well, Alfred's the one that told me he was gone and that you were out here 'cause I didn't come... for Damian."

His brows raised a little at that.

"I wanted to talk to you about, um, the letter."

She appeared to be trying her best to remain composed and calm, yet Bruce could read the nervousness in the way she spun one of the rings on her fingers and ran her gaze over the backyard, avoiding his gaze.

_'The letter'?_

Curious, he gestured towards the patio furniture and made his way over to one of the chairs at the outdoor table that had been warmed by the afternoon sun. The teen followed suit, seating herself across from him and looking down at her hands in her lap. The table's umbrella shielded them both from the sunlight, providing Bruce some much-needed shade.

"What exactly about... the letter... did you want to discuss?" he decided to ask in a patient tone.

Jess was quiet for a few moments, gaze still turned downward. Then she took a deep breath before answering, "I just want to know how you and Damian could do something like that for me. And why."

Bruce's brain was working as quickly as it could, attempting to understand what exactly "that" was and how it had a connection to whatever "letter" she was referring to. It didn't take long, though, to conclude that it was something Damian had done without his knowledge, considering she had just said "you and Damian."

What had his son done behind his back now?

He was weighing several options, including various things he could say or ask that would get her to reveal the answer to him while pretending to know exactly what she was speaking about, when she spoke again.

"Not that I don't appreciate it," Jess was adding, meeting his eyes. "I really do—I mean, I think it's probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, but... I don't know. Paying for school seems like way too much. I don't think I... I don't think I deserve it at all."

The pieces were coming together in his head now, and within several moments, Bruce had come to what he was sure to be a fairly accurate guess at what had happened.

"Can you explain to me why you think it's too much?"

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, eyes trained on something in the distance behind him. "Well... for one, I've heard that even just a year at the academy is pretty expensive. But just the fact that you are willing to pay for that—the fact that you're willing to pay for it _at all_ is just... I'm sorry, it's just kind of crazy to me."

Bruce never would have put it past Damian to go to such lengths to do something like this. However exactly he'd gone and done it, the young man was more than capable of finding a way to apparently offer Jess a year at Gotham Academy unbeknownst to Bruce himself—with _his_ money.

With a mental sigh, he maintained his calm and kind demeanor, the teenage girl before him completely unaware of the truth behind the situation.

"It was a careful decision Damian and I made together," Bruce lied smoothly, watching as she sat back in the chair and fidgeted with the drawstrings of her hoodie.

"Speaking of that... how did he convince you anyway? What did he tell you?"

_Absolutely nothing._

Bruce paused for a long moment. What was the most appropriate way to answer without making it sound as if his son had told him the experiences Jess had endured? She'd already told Damian about the most painful parts of her life, he knew that much. He could only imagine how upset she would likely get, and he wasn't sure he would blame her—the girl's secrets were hers and hers alone to tell. Indeed, the two of them knew everything there was to know about her, yet that was certainly not something he would reveal to her.

After another minute of contemplation, he finally answered, "Truthfully, he didn't tell me very much. Damian was very convincing in saying that you don't want to return to Central City, that staying here would give you a chance at the life you deserve."

He saw the effect his words, though they were lies, had on her. She wasn't looking at him anymore, her gaze on the table between them. A small wrinkle had formed between her brows as she considered what he'd said, silence falling among them.

"I'm not entirely sure what he meant by that, but... he told me he wanted to help you, and this was the best way he could do that. And I trust Damian, so I agreed."

Would he have actually agreed if Damian had actually suggested this to him rather than done it behind his back?

"He... he didn't tell you anything else?" Jess appeared more nervous all of a sudden, eyes full of anticipation.

"No... That was all."

Bruce had a feeling her asking had something to do with stardust and how it had pushed her and Damian apart. It only made him wonder if it was one of the reasons Damian had decided to go above and beyond with this... "favor." Yet how would having her spend a year at the academy accomplish that?

Even now, the older man could see how her use of the white powder was affecting her then and there. She was bouncing her leg underneath the table and had put one of the drawstrings of her hoodie in her mouth, chewing on it as she stared with wide eyes at nothing in particular in the backyard behind him. This must have been the most anxious Bruce had ever seen her, including all the moments he'd faced her as Batman when she'd had her entire future in the hands of those she'd wrongfully trusted. The girl had stood before him—not to mention defied his urge to turn her life around—in his suit, fought against the same people who'd taken her in and betrayed her, encountered Robin numerous times across the city, managed to live on her own for several months... yet here, now, Jess appeared fragile and beside herself. She was clearly at a loss and unable to comprehend Damian's generosity, something that he rarely gave because it was even rarer that he let any person grow too close. This gift he'd given her put a life-changing decision on her shoulders; it was no wonder she looked as troubled as she did.

And perhaps that was why the gesture was so jarring and outlandish to her. It wasn't that Damian was trying to solve Jess's problems with money. Bruce knew that while his only biological son was undeniably one of the most difficult people to get through to, it only meant that Damian reserved his efforts, time, and love for the ones he eventually let in. It meant that when he cared for someone, he cared _hard_ and as _deeply_ as one could... possibly much more than anyone else around.

"I know this might be very difficult to wrap your head around and even more so to make a decision, whether or not you'll accept Damian's offer," Bruce began carefully, "but... I will say this: as you already know, Damian is... ah, very 'selective' when it comes to choosing his friends and those who grow close to him.

"Beyond that, when he's decided he wants to keep you around him, he's undoubtedly one of the most caring and loyal people you'll ever meet."

He saw the way her eyes fell onto him, sparkling with something that was either tears or dawning realization... perhaps both.

"And with this letter, I believe Damian is showing you what he doesn't know how to say," Bruce continued. "If there is anything I know best about him—"

Something caught in his throat, throwing him off-guard and forcing him to swallow past it. Jess didn't seem to notice, having zoned out in her own little world as he'd kept speaking.

After taking a steady breath, Bruce finished, "If there's anything I know best about Damian... it's that he has the biggest heart I've ever known."

Out of everything he'd said to her during the entire conversation, that single sentence had felt the most honest, the most truthful thing he could have spoken. It must have resonated with the teen because she'd looked lost in thought for a while before thanking him for his time and getting up to leave. She needed more time to consider the scholarship, Jess had added, but she wanted him to know that she was grateful for his kindness. Her hazel eyes had still been glistening with tears that weren't yet spilling when she bade him goodbye, leaving Bruce to his more muddled thoughts in the backyard.

* * *

When Damian had gone to open the door after Alfred had notified him someone was at the gate for him, he'd expected an embittered, resentful Jess who wanted to give him a piece of her mind. He'd expected a familiar, hazel-colored glare and perhaps an ultimatum that would make it difficult for him to avoid returning the favor. He'd been as prepared as he could be, bracing himself while unlocking the door.

Instead, he was met with wide, hazel eyes that were filled with uncertainty and distress... They took him in as he stood there, watching her try to speak. She looked like she'd spent the entire day in bed in an over-sized t-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers. Strands of hair had come loose from her low ponytail, contributing to the appearance of her having rolled out of bed.

"I... I know you probably don't really want to talk or see me right now..." she began, twisting the ring on her finger, eyes dropping to the ground.

Her voice began to tremble, just like her bottom lip. "But I-I... I d-don't know what—_Fuck_." Wiping away at a tear that had fallen down her cheek, Jess looked irritated with herself. "Told myself I wasn't going to cry, but here I am," she muttered crossly.

Damian watched as she struggled to take a deep breath, still not meeting his eyes. "I d-don't know what to do," she tried again, voice shaking. "I just—Everything is... I just don't know what to do."

And then Jess was in tears all of a sudden, her hands covering her face as her shoulders shook. It was instant, a reflex, the way he stepped through the doorway and embraced her, taking her smaller figure into his arms as if it was something he was meant to do.

He felt her lean into him while she sobbed... yet there was something else he was aware of as well. Despite the ache rising in him at the sight of her crying, he felt a peculiar blooming of warmth within his chest, one that was stronger and beginning to spread throughout his entire body. No, it was nothing like misplacing a phone or a sweater he often wore. It was more than familiar, a feeling he hadn't experienced in too many days, similar to inserting a key into a lock, sliding a book perfectly in place on a shelf—it was as if he'd found something he had lost, something that he'd been used to having around and had just gotten back.

Something that belonged.

* * *

**Note:** so i wanted to spend this chapter exploring how Jess feels trying to understand Damian's grandiose gesture with the whole scholarship thing. i feel like she was just getting used to the idea of having friends who actually want her around, people who care about her, and then Damian goes and expresses his desire for her to stay with this letter and she's like "WTF i can't handle this" lol. threw in Bruce's perspective to give a different angle to our beloved Damian's character and how much of a truly loyal and caring person he really is :)

and then, uh, i wrote that beginning part with Kade to hint at the way he sees the friendship between the two, but clearly, he only sees a very limited portion considering he and Damian don't even know each other haha

thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed! **Miss Victoria 20:** it's totally not wrong for you to wish Jess and Damian get together. call me biased, but i'm rooting for them, too ;) **curlystruggle:** your comment about everyone needing therapy truly made me laugh out loud. no joke. (also, i don't disagree HAHA) **evabrennan:** thanks so much for that viewpoint! i won't say too much 'cause i don't wanna reveal anything, but all i will say is that you and i think alike :D **reddevil47, anoyak111:** writing mouthy Damian is so fun, i'm already brainstorming more ways to make him upset LOL i'm awful, i shouldn't do our poor Damian like that **0Swan8:** you're not wrong! (neither of them know that yet, so we'll see how long that takes... hehe)

again, many thanks to every single one of you! *insert heart emojis* i appreciate every review and favorite and follow. writing this fanfic plus playing video games are honestly the only things getting me through this pandemic and working from home and everything we're going through. hope you enjoyed this one! next chapter is gonna be quite the turning point if you didn't already guess that :) xx


	27. Jessica's Law

_"I've been having a hard time adjusting_

_I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting..._

_And maybe I don't quite know what to say,_

_but I'm here in your doorway..._

_They told me all of my cages were mental,_

_so I got wasted like all my potential..._

_I just wanted you to know_

_that this is me trying"_

_~ Taylor Swift, "this is me trying"_

* * *

**Chapter 27: Jessica's Law**

It was no secret that Damian Wayne went to lengths to get what he wanted. He used any means at hand to accomplish something, which were often beyond any ordinary person's capabilities, and this applied to a variety of things in his life from school to Robin to his interpersonal relationships. It was selfish, he wouldn't deny that, but it made sense to him; it was one of the few ways he knew how to live.

Perhaps he could have convinced Bruce to write up the letter and gather the funds. Perhaps it wouldn't have been a particularly difficult feat, and he suspected it had something to do with the undeniable fact that his father had a soft spot for Jess; both Bruce and Batman wanted her to succeed, and if Damian had simply proposed the idea, his father may have agreed. Yet the former assassin had been unable to shake the natural conviction to take care of a problem by himself, to take matters into his own hands and be in control where he could.

It also voided any possibility—however small it may be—that Bruce would have refused, and Damian was not one to tolerate any obstacles.

Of course, that wasn't to say he hadn't spent a great deal of time considering doing this for Jess; he'd most certainly weighed the pros and cons, asked himself multiple times if offering such a grandiose gift was appropriate let alone logical and practical for this stage of their friendship. He'd already been somewhat put off by how close they'd seemed to grow over the course of a single summer, so characteristically, a part of him had been reluctant to go out of his way and devise a means for her to stay. Years of friends and girlfriends come and gone were enough to make him decidedly accept that she had to return home... but that stubborn, selfish part of him had also fought to justify this gift to her.

Because Damian and Jess would be able to continue their friendship in a way that wasn't hindered by distance, in a way that _he_ wanted, in a way that didn't make things more complex than they needed to be.

And he'd be able to keep her close and out of trouble.

It felt peculiar, lying side-by-side on his bed again, just as they did when Titus had passed. And just like that time, he was on his back, looking up at the ceiling while she laid on her side, arms tucked underneath her head on the pillow. For a while now, neither of them had said anything, hearing only the soft sniffles she made while her face glistened in the dim light of his lamp.

He hadn't glanced in her direction once for fear of making her feel weak or vulnerable in her state. At least for him, he didn't like having eyes on him while he was in such an emotional position, so he'd figured she felt the same. Yet minutes passed with her still crying beside him, and Damian found himself searching for any way to curb her obvious distress and suffering. The only solutions his brain would come up with had everything to do with telling her what he believed she should do—which she already knew—and less with what she needed.

And what was it that Jess needed?

Before he could try and consider another option, he was aware of her shifting closer until her head found the crook between his arm and chest, forcing him to lift his arm until she was curled right up against his body. Her face, which she was covering with her hands, was turned and buried into his chest for a reason he didn't know.

"You were right." Her words were muffled and followed by a sharp sniffle.

"About what?" he asked softly.

"Everything," she answered, pulling her hands away and scooting back a little to look up at him. "And now I... I don't know what to do from here. I keep thinking about it, but… I don't think I can figure this out on my own."

Propping himself up and resting his head on his hand, Damian glanced down at her. Her hazel eyes, rimmed with redness, met his briefly before glancing down at the comforter beneath them.

"I really don't know why I just don't think for myself, like you said. Maybe I make dumb decisions 'cause I think it'll turn out fine anyway," she ranted quietly in a shaky voice, more tears escaping. She pressed the heels of her hands to them, taking a deep breath.

"God, why do I do this to myself?" Jess added as another sob rose up in her, making her bury her face into the bed again.

Instinctively, Damian leaned forward and wrapped his free arm around her, resting his cheek against her shoulder beneath him. As always, she was warm, and he could vaguely detect how she smelled. It had taken him some time to put a finger on the exact scents, but now, he could picture the flower as if its petals were tucked away somewhere in her pockets—a light, musky aura softened by calming, sweet lavender.

He felt her turning over from pressing her face into the sheets, prompting him to lift his arm and lean back. Inquisitive, green irises looked over Jess as she wiped under her reddened eyes. "This past week really sucked, you know," she told him, following with a weak laugh that wouldn't have fooled anyone. "With us, I mean... And I feel like it was my fault."

"Like it always is," she seemed to mutter to herself.

He was quiet, turning her words over in his mind as he was reminded of their recent arguments. They seemed to be fine now, of course, but as they say, there was certainly an elephant in the room (or two). In spite of all the things he'd said to her and how he felt about her decisions, it still didn't sit well with him that she was expressing such distaste with herself. Not that it was the first time she'd done so, but there was a small part of him that felt it was partially his fault she was beating herself up for her mistakes. He'd been harsh with his approaches, hadn't he? These decisions had been Jess's alone, yes, but perhaps, as her friend, he might have been unconventionally callous about it. He wasn't supposed to hurt her feelings while trying to help her; he didn't need Dick to tell him that.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Jessica," Damian found himself admitting.

She met his gaze from where she lay and then looked at his chest as if she didn't want to hold the eye contact.

"All I cared about was getting you to see that you were making a mistake. I..." He had to pause and gather his thoughts, aware of the slight anxiety rising within him. Unlike their previous conversations, the older teen was taking caution to choose his words carefully. "I didn't know how to do that without being blunt no matter how it affected you."

"Well, it's not like you were wrong," his friend answered in a whisper, her eyes still trained on his shirt.

Damian shook his head. "Still, I was needlessly spiteful and insensitive towards you."

She pursed her lips in thought before replying, "So was I." That was when she met his gaze again, her eyes flickering back and forth between his. "When I said that maybe you—that you weren't good for me either."

He cast his mind back to that moment, one during which he'd actually felt genuinely _hurt_ and bewildered at such a statement. It'd been almost as painful as watching her take her hand back and walk away... away from him, to Kade, to all the things he wanted so badly to remove from her life.

Damian had always liked to think there were few things in the world that could hurt him, and somehow, that day in particular had left him feeling thin-skinned and weak.

"I didn't mean that," she continued, lifting her head to curl her hands underneath. "And I definitely didn't mean what I said about not wanting to stay... 'cause I do want to.

"But I-I do have to go back." Jess paused, dejection across her face. "My options were to extend probation by another month, which would mean missing the first two months of school or to basically pay a fee. My aunt picked the second one—I pretty much had no say. I mean, I'm not complaining about not having an extra two months of all this, but..."

Damian's eyes lingered on her face as she laid there in silence, her gaze roaming around on his plain shirt; it felt like she was purposefully avoiding meeting his eyes. Why?

Her face was dry now and the redness in her skin and eyes had faded, but Damian had a feeling anything could send her into tears again.

"You don't have to leave."

Now she was looking up at him, hazel irises swimming with undeniable bleakness. "Yes, I do, Damian."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with a shake of her head. "I can't take that scholarship from you and Bruce. It was really, _really_ thoughtful and kind of you, but..." She bit her lip before exhaling heavily. "It's honestly too much."

He'd never thought he would end up being honest enough to tell her that he wanted her to stay in Gotham. Yet their second confrontation in his car had pushed him far enough that he'd had to say it... because that was simply how she'd finally be able to understand.

"I don't deserve it. I really don't."

"Then what must you do to feel like you do deserve it?"

Jess pulled at the hair tie on her wrist, seeming to think for a moment. "Misty said something to me… I was telling her the same thing about how I don't feel like I deserve it. And she said that maybe I need to earn it."

Raising a brow, Damian responded smoothly, "I wouldn't disagree." He paused, then continued, "I didn't do this only because I want you to stay. I also did it because you've expressed how much you'd rather be here than go back to Central City... This is how I can help you do that."

She seemed to take a moment to examine him, her stare running over first his nose, then mouth, then back up to his eyes. It was as if she was searching for an answer in his face.

"I don't know if your dad told you... but I talked to him about the letter yesterday."

Though his face remained still, Damian's interest was piqued. She'd gone out of her way to seek answers from his father, who had been clueless about the ordeal—until now. A small part of him wondered what Bruce had thought upon finding out "he" had written the recommendation and why he hadn't approached Damian yet. Was it not concerning to him? Did he somehow approve of Damian's artful tactics and had no intention of putting a stop to it?

With a shake of his head, he answered, "No, he hasn't spoken to me about it."

Jess pushed herself up on the bed and readjusted her position until she was sitting with her legs crossed beneath her, eyes turned downward to her hands in her lap. "He said pretty much the same thing you did... How you wanted to do it for me and to help me."

The statement confirmed Damian's suspicions, sending an ache through his chest. So his father had lied through his teeth to her and managed to play off his ignorance... all the while making highly-accurate guesses about his son's intentions. He'd had the chance to out Damian for his deception—but he hadn't.

Bruce surely knew him well.

"But how could you still want me to stay even after... everything that's happened?"

"It would take more than a few disagreements for me to decide you're longer worth my company."

That much was true. He already considered his standards high when it came to letting anyone get close enough to him. That, in turn, meant it would take a harrowing experience to let that person get past his defenses enough to hurt him.

Jason could speak to that.

"I have a feeling I know what you'd want in return," Jess was saying then, her voice quiet as she averted her gaze.

Damian contemplated his answer before speaking. "Well, I would certainly hope that if you did take the offer, you would discontinue your use of stardust.

"But I also hope you will stop regardless of whether you stay or go back home... I want to see you live the better life you always talk about."

He couldn't say anymore. Something had stopped him—whether it was a clench in his heart or the abrupt thickness in his throat—making him only able to watch her face carefully as she remained silent.

But then her eyes were roaming his face again, latching on to his temple for a reason he couldn't name until she leaned forward and reached out—

And didn't touch him.

"Can I?" she asked, searching his eyes.

The bruise. Damian hadn't cared since his encounter with Jason to do anything about it, but now he recalled how she had tried to heal him when they'd been in his car. At the time, he had refused her so quickly and in part due to the way he'd been feeling about their strained friendship. Her offer had only made him feel _weak_… It had reminded him of the way his older brother had interrupted his investigation, how Damian hadn't been good enough to block the hit. Furthermore, he had already been struggling to remain composed and strong upon arriving in Kade's neighborhood to speak with her.

Still unable to respond, Damian simply nodded, giving her the permission she needed.

Concentration filled her hazel eyes as that odd glow of her hand radiated softly between them. He couldn't feel anything in particular, perhaps a slight tingling, though the area had never hurt unless pressure was applied. Moments later, she met his gaze and smiled a little while lowering her hand.

"As good as new," she told him in a satisfied tone.

It seemed far too easy, the way she could do something so incredible at her hands. A bruise, a few minor lacerations, a three-inch gap in his leg… Jess had healed them all, helped him when he had never asked for or wanted it. For the briefest moment, he saw again the heavy rain and her dark hair plastered to her face as she nearly begged him to remain still on the wet pavement. He could almost feel the downpour around him and the initial shock at seeing how his bloody skin had sealed back together. He recalled wondering later on why she had done it, then realizing he had never asked her. That night, she had told Jax she wouldn't hurt anyone innocent, yet was that the real, full answer? Was there more?

Perhaps it was merely because that was who she was. Despite the string of crimes and mistakes and a history of painful experiences in her life, Jess was still a good person. She had even gone out of her way to remedy the physical trauma she had given Patrick Dobra in her days with the gang.

And here she'd been all along, taking away Damian's pain and injuries since the beginning because she _wanted_ to, as if it were child's play or…

As if it was something _she_ was meant to do.

_Why won't you let me help you, too?_

* * *

The first time she'd truly felt like someone cared to have her around—in a long, long time—had been the day of Titus's burial.

She recalled the disbelief that she hadn't been able to shake off at the apparent fact that Damian would rather have _her_ there instead of his own siblings... besides Dick, of course. Granted Jess didn't know a whole lot about his relationships with them and if there was some kind of unresolved trauma, but that hardly made it any less shocking that he obviously valued her presence.

And to make things even more jarring, Bruce had driven the point home when he'd come across her in that guest room.

_"It doesn't mean you're any less deserving of being here for him. He wanted you here for a reason."_

Now, here she was, trying to tell her friend that it was absolutely ridiculous he'd go as far as offering to _pay_ for her way through school, to stay in Gotham, to not have to go back to Central City. This was the same guy who'd intrigued her upon their first meeting, easily intimidated people around him, came off withdrawn and distant, regarded everything and everyone with hardened eyes, walked around with a thick layer of walls to keep most people out...

But he was also the same young man who had a soft spot for animals, had managed to crack and allow himself to be vulnerable when he'd needed her, sometimes "laughed"—it was always more like rolling his eyes or smirking—at her stupid jokes, was a good sport when she and Dick poked fun at him, taught her how to drive (again), went out of his way to help her get back into skating, shared his favorite vegetarian recipes in the manor's kitchen.

If she'd known she would grow so close to someone during her time here in the city, maybe Jess would have run in the other direction before anyone could even say "Gotham City."

Because that's what she always did, right? Tending to run from her problems and pretend they weren't there... The realities of her friendship with Damian and his intentions were nothing but glaring red signs she'd turned away from, hoping they'd disappear and resolve themselves.

_You can't run away now_, a voice murmured in the back of her cluttered mind as she looked up at her friend, who was watching her intently.

A tear was slipping down her cheek then, and she reached up to wipe it away. "I'm starting to hate you being right all the time, you know."

"That would make you one of the few people to admit I am."

She eyed him and caught the ghost of a smirk he was trying to hide, rolling her eyes in return.

"Why did you start doing it, Jessica?"

She was silent for several long moments, eyes stinging again. "I, uh... I thought it would help me," Jess began, sniffling and staring once more at his shirt. "I always have these nightmares of the people I did bad things with... or of my parents. And sometimes I just get so caught up in my own head, it-it makes it hard for me to remember why I'm doing all of this, you know, probation and whatnot..."

"You never told me any of this," he then said in a lowered voice.

"Yeah... I know."

There was tension in his tone as he asked, "Is there a reason for you keeping these things from me?"

With a deep breath, Jess made the conscious decision then to be as truthful as she could be. There was no use avoiding it any longer. The best she could do now was try to explain... because he at least deserved that much after all this time.

"I was—I was afraid of what you'd think of me. You've said these things before about how you think I deserve another chance..." Her voice had dropped again, almost a whisper. "And it just made me not want to tell you that... that I'm not as great and deserving as you think I am."

The wetness on her cheeks made her feel stupidly vulnerable.

"Maybe this w-won't count for anything, but I-I never used it when I was with you. I can swear to that. It was mostly because I didn't want you to suspect anything... I'm pretty sure I never needed to anyway."

Why was that? She could see that same question reflecting in his gaze as they at silently for several moments.

"What will you do now?"

Long moments passed with her gazing at nothing across his room and Damian's watchful eyes on her. Jess knew what her initial feeling was in this situation... yet there was no denying that what she _wanted_ was the complete opposite of what she felt she should do.

"Do you ever feel like you're running out of time?" she suddenly asked.

Before her, Damian raised a brow. Would she even be able to coherently put this into words?

"With everything happening... between us, this way-too-nice offer of yours, having to go back home, I feel like—like I just need _more time_."

He sat up then in the same way she had, crossing his legs across from her and looking down at her fidgeting hands. "Although I could have given it to you sooner, you do have time, Jessica. The school year doesn't start for a few weeks."

His answer was relieving, but that didn't erase the fact that even if, in a perfect, hypothetical world, she was able to attend the academy, she would still have to return to Central City. Even if it was to repack and get situated for living in Gotham for longer than a summer, it meant seeing her aunt again and being away from her two friends. As small as it might have seemed to anyone else, the thought brought her suffocating anxiety.

"You know what I would like you to do," Damian continued slowly, looking up at her, "but this shouldn't bring you more stress than you can handle. Perhaps you can... consider it. Even if you do go back."

He said no more, seemingly speaking with those bold, green eyes that made her wish she didn't have to make this choice.

Because she obviously hadn't been making the right ones lately. If only there was some all-knowing being or simply someone who could see into the future to tell her what to do... She wanted to be relieved of such a heavy responsibility, far less confident in her ability to make the best decision even more than she had been before.

_There are a few things you did right_, a tiny voice tried to tell her, conjuring memories of her making the phone call that night at the library, showing up for Damian when he'd needed her, reversing the damage she'd caused Patrick Dobra.

The quiet, broody young man before her was one of the few good choices she'd made, wasn't he?

"I can't help feeling like... if there's something that will go wrong, it will," Jess confessed, fidgeting once again with her hair tie on her wrist. "Like I just have bad luck or something."

"Murphy's Law."

"Huh?"

Damian's steady gaze rested on her coolly as he recited, "'Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.'" With a casual wave of his hand, he further explained, "The idiom is speculated to have originated in the second World War: a U.S. Air Force project was meant to determine how much gravitational force a human being could withstand, and after discovering a transducer was wired incorrectly, one of the engineers, Edward Murphy, grumbled about the technician supposedly responsible. Said something along the lines of 'If there is a way to do it wrong, he will find it.'

"People often consider it as a pessimistic or facetious way to view the world, but I personally find it applicable in some situations. It's generally better to expect the worst rather than go in unprepared or ignorant to the possibility of things going awry."

Jess was staring at him, though she shouldn't have balked at the way he'd pulled the phrase seemingly out of nowhere and given her a quick history lesson on it. It only made sense that he knew this, but the awe was short-lived as the phrase sunk into her thoughts, making her feel oddly comforted that she held such a cynical mindset about her decisions.

"Well, then it seems like it's not all that bad that I always expect things to go wrong, huh?" she tried to joke, the corner of her mouth lifting in a half-smile. "Might as well call it 'Jess's Law.'"

Emerald greens shifted from their previous aloofness to something softer. "I believe it'd be more fitting if 'Jessica's Law' was... 'Anything that Jessica desires to accomplish will be accomplished.'" His voice, normally tinted with casual indifference, sounded heavy instead with thoughtfulness.

"'If there is a way to do better, she will find it.'"

Though she hadn't been crying for the last several minutes, his words had her eyes stinging with fresh tears. Trying to smile through them (because she still hated responding so emotionally to what felt like anything these days), Jess dabbed at them with the hem of her shirt while avoiding his gaze.

"Geez," she managed to say with a sniffle. "That was, uh... That was pretty deep of you, Dami."

"Tt. Don't get used to it. I'm far from a philosophical person, if you remember... But tell me: am I wrong?"

The look on his face was serious when she finally looked up at him. "I guess it'd be lame if I didn't live up to my own law named after me."

"Jessica." The wrinkles that were always between his brows were almost nonexistent as they were washed away by an expression that her heart skipping in her chest. It was vulnerable... like the way he'd looked at her after grabbing her wrist the other day. "While I would rather you do this for yourself... if you find that you are unable to, then... do it for me." He seemed to hesitate before adding, "Or your parents."

There was nothing else she could say now; exhaustion had suddenly fallen over her like a weighty blanket. Maybe it was all the thoughts and words they'd exchanged, the tears she'd cried, the whirlwind of emotions taking hold of her—maybe it was all of it. What she knew at that moment was that she needed to shut it all off and let her mind and heart rest because they were simply too overwhelmed. She'd revisit her troubles another time, when the choices had to be made.

Because the only thing she wanted to do was to be present, here, under this roof and beside the person who made it feel like home.

Wordlessly, Jess propped up the fluffy pillows against the bed's wide headboard and laid back against them. She patted the spot next to her, silently inviting the older teen to join her. His bold eyes appraised her for a moment before he complied and moved over, and she scooted closer to rest her head against his shoulder. The arrangement felt natural and familiar, one that brought ease and a sensation like peace, and the comforting smell of wood and amber only solidified the experience. Out of habit, like it was a routine, her forearms wrapped around his bicep to hold his arm against her chest.

As she closed her eyes and attempted to let the worrisome thoughts drift away, they were replaced by sentiments that wanted to stick around in her brain like glaring signs that refused to be ignored.

_If there is a way to do better, she will find it._

_'Jessica's Law'_… It kind of had a nice ring to it, didn't it?

* * *

Damian had awoken due to his body's natural sleep cycle, just minutes before nine. This year, as it had been for the last few years, Dick wasn't knocking at his door yelling "Happy birthday, Little D!" nor was Jason barging in with a birthday cake—in the _morning_, for goodness' sake—because instead, the manor was quiet as he rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling after rubbing at his tired eyes. A quick glance at his phone showed a few text messages from Dick, Tim, Stephanie, all wishing him a happy birthday and to give them a call when he had a chance. He cleared all the notifications from the screen, a peculiar sinking feeling in his chest as he realized he'd been looking for a specific message from a specific person.

Well, it _was_ a bit early for her, considering she enjoyed sleeping in, unlike him.

With a sigh, Damian went about his usual morning routine, taking a shower and dressing in one of his typical black turtleneck sweaters. He paused before stepping out of his room, suddenly recalling a day that Jess had taken it upon herself to rummage around his closet and dressers out of curiosity (she had, thankfully, asked him for permission beforehand).

"Why haven't I seen you wear this?" she'd asked, pulling a hanger that held a casual, maroon-colored button-up shirt.

"Dick gifted that to me last Christmas," Damian had responded indifferently from his desk, arms crossed as he sat back and watched her with amusement. "To this day, he has little to no sense of the way I prefer to dress. Not that he is a fashionable icon himself in the first place."

"I think it's nice." His friend had held it out before her, hazel eyes running over it before glancing over at him with raised brows. "Try it on? I bet it'd actually look good on you."

And that was when he'd decided to officially close his wardrobe to her, demanding (nicely) that she put away the flannel and that they find something else worthy to do with their time.

Moments later, that same flannel was pulled over a black t-shirt, and Damian was tilting his head at himself in the mirror as he folded up the sleeves to his elbows. _I suppose it does look nice._ He had never cared too much about his appearance beyond reasonable hygiene and looking presentable, though he'd certainly always believed he did a better job than most people—and it wasn't like he _needed_ to put much effort into it. Yet something about Jess's comment had piqued his curiosity that morning, prompting him to attempt something different and outside his boundaries.

Opting to think nothing more of it, the young man made his way downstairs, intent on finding breakfast. A small part of him was considering how long he should wait until he should text her when he heard voices coming from the kitchen. A faint, sweet aroma met his nose, and he immediately recognized the smell of Alfred's buttermilk pancakes that he'd always enjoyed as a child.

As soon as he turned into the doorway from the hall, his gaze landed on the two figures busy at work. Alfred was slicing thick, fluffy pancakes into squares within a baking dish on the counter, and beside him, a familiar brunette had her fingers dipping into a bowl of raspberries and blueberries, placing them delicately on the slices the butler placed on small plates near her. Though her back was to him, Damian could see she was wearing an apron, like Alfred, over a sage green shirt tucked into baggy jeans with her locks pulled back into a ponytail.

The sight had both wonder and then warmth washing through him, making him stop momentarily and remain by the doorway in silence to watch them.

"Shoot," Jess suddenly said, glancing down at the plates of pancakes and then Alfred. "Was I supposed to put the fruit on _after_ the syrup or can it go on before? Or does it not matter?"

Damian could see the corner of Alfred's mouth lifting from where he stood. "Either way works, Miss Fairchild. We can let everyone put their own syrup on if you'd like to worry about the fruit instead."

"Guess we'd better do that. Besides, I think we both know how picky Damian is, and I wouldn't want to give him too much or too less of anything." Her tone was joking as she continued placing the bits of red and blue fruit atop the slices.

"I'm sure he would love it simply because you made it."

"Ehh, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We haven't tasted it yet."

Arms crossed, Damian felt something tugging at his mouth as he spoke up, "Give me a bit more credit than that, Jessica."

She jumped a little, turning with Alfred to look at him. Her hazel eyes widened at his presence, then a sheepish smile crossed her face as she glanced at the pancakes and back at him. "Well, damn, birthday boy, how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to consider it impressive you did all of this yourself."

_For me._

Jess had wiped her hands on her apron as she crossed the kitchen and made her way towards him; her arms found their way under his to embrace him. The hug was too short—she was already pulling away just as the mixed scents of musky lavender and sweet pancakes drifted into his space.

"Hey, I know this shirt," his friend was saying as she stepped back and gave him a once-over. "I told you it would look nice. I mean, I'm sure you'd look good in anything anyway. But I still told you."

Before he could respond, she made her way back to Alfred's side and added, "And to be clear, Alfred did most of the work. I just did the super easy stuff, like turning on the oven and spraying the dish."

A grin spread across her face while the butler shook his head and looked at Damian. "_I_ simply prepped everything and walked her through it. Miss Fairchild did everything else on her own."

"If Alfred was the one to help you, then I have no doubt it turned out more than satisfactory," Damian mused as he approached them, curious to see the results of Jess's work up close.

"Okay, if you're going to critique what I made, please don't use weird vocabulary like '_satisfactory_.'"

"How else would you expect me to describe the food?"

"Oh, I don't know, you could say 'This is gross' or 'This is amazing, and it tastes great.' Using 'satisfactory' makes me feel like I'm getting a grade."

"So I am _not_ rating how your cooking turned out."

"You are," Jess responded in a matter-of-fact tone. "Just don't be so… _Damian_ about it."

He'd stopped next to her at the counter, watching as she made small, last-minute adjustments to the groups of fruit on each plate. Her eyes turned up towards him, shining with humor at their banter, and Damian found himself almost smiling in response… but instead, he resorted to one of his characteristic eye-rolls, earning a head-shake from her while she looked back down at the food before her.

Alfred had pulled orange juice and milk from the fridge and was setting them on the counter. "I'll get your father," he said, reaching to give the young man a hug. "Happy birthday, Master Damian."

Damian returned the gesture, embracing the older man gently before watching him walk out of the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone. Before he could reach for the bowl of fruit in front of Jess, she was swatting his hand away with a mock glare.

"What are you doing? Just go sit down. I'll take these out to the table myself," she ordered him.

In a flash, his fingers were wrapped around hers and lifting the smaller hand away from the plate she'd been trying to guard. "Actually, I was reaching for a blueberry, mind you." He was unable to help himself from adopting that same witty attitude she always gave him, adding with a raised brow, "I don't have a problem with you handling the servings for me."

A scowl crossed her face before she rolled her bright, hazel eyes, pulling her hand away and plopping the desired bowl of fruit next to him. "Spoiled, aren't you?" Jess took up two of the plates, looking him up and down with feigned pride before brushing past him.

_Not enough._

The buttermilk pancakes turned out exactly the way Alfred had always prepared them (albeit with a single candle on his that Jess had snuck in). Both he and Bruce offered their commendations to Jess at the dining table, earning a joke from her about giving the butler a run for his money. Though Dick, Kori, and Mar'i had been unable to find the time to visit for the weekend, Damian found just during that morning's breakfast that his company was still more than what he had expected—not necessarily more than what he'd hoped or wanted (because he certainly did have every intention to spend time with his friend and family), but the surprise visit on Jess's part had already started off his day with unexpected delight. Damian had never been the kind of person who cared for surprises, and the fact that he was hard to catch off-guard was part of that. Even growing up, he'd usually been good at guessing the gifts he was receiving for his birthday or Christmas… and he didn't always have to do any sort of detective work to find out. The people around him were simply that predictable and, in Dick's case, sometimes unoriginal.

Yet it seemed Jess had more up her sleeve as the day progressed. Last time they'd spoken, she'd asked him what he had planned for his birthday, to which he'd responded that he had nothing in mind.

Her brows had gone up in disbelief. "You don't want to do anything at all? Not even a dinner or something?"

He'd shrugged, replying indifferently, "Alfred will probably do something special for dinner, but outside of that, there's nothing specific that interests me."

"Hmm," was all she'd said before concluding, "Well, I'm just glad my flight is the next day, and we can still hang out for your birthday before I leave. If you want to, of course. Whatever you wanna do, I'm down for it."

'If he wanted to.' Why wouldn't he want to spend time with her?

She'd also asked if any of his siblings were planning to visit, and he'd told her that none of them had been able to find the time. Predictably, she'd expressed disappointment at not being able to see Dick again or meeting the others, but Damian had waved it off as just another instance of the family being busy in their own respective lives.

Besides, he had no complaints about the way his day was going this year. Even as his friend ordered him to close his eyes in the living room, Alfred sitting nearby, Damian couldn't bring himself to actually complain—he was doing it in a good-natured manner, of course.

"If it's wrapped, why do I need to close my eyes?"

"It's not wrapped, actually," Jess's voice came from somewhere beside him. "And stop asking questions, it won't help you."

"I just feel ridiculous sitting here like a child with my eyes—"

"Hey, you did the same thing with me when you took me to the rink, remember? And _you_ scolded _me_ about so many questions."

"That's because I couldn't _wrap_ the rink in a gift and hand it to you. This is clearly not the same thing."

"Oh, whatever, just wait for your dad to get back. Don't be a—what's that word for when someone says you can't do something but they do it, too?"

Alfred's voice came from where Damian knew he was seated in one of the recliners nearby. "'Hypocrite.'"

"Yeah, that. Don't be a hypocrite," Jess finished haughtily, and if it weren't for having his eyes closed, Damian would have rolled them so far up his head.

Moments later, Bruce returned, prompting the brunette to start speaking again.

"Okay, so... This is technically from both me and your dad—"

"You came up with the idea though," Bruce cut in.

"I mean," she let out a soft laugh, "it was an idea _you_ had that I jumped on and made you go through with. But anyway, this is from the both of us."

Damian had been aware of her moving closer to him, judging by the sound of her voice as it went from one end of the living room to right next to him. She told him to open his eyes then, and what he saw next had his heart skipping a beat and shock flooding his limbs.

A fully-grown cat—an American shorthair, he instantly recognized—was sitting in Jess's arms as she sat beside him on the couch, mint green irises roaming its surroundings. The cat's coat was mostly snow white with a pattern of dark brown stripes, pinkish-brown nose twitching as it sniffed the teen's bare forearms, a gesture that had her scrunching her own nose in delight.

"His name's Neo," she told him with a faint grin. Her eyes turned upward to look at Damian, the slightest hint of wariness in them.

"He's from the same shelter you volunteered at earlier this summer," Bruce spoke up from his cross-legged position on the floor. A plain, large cardboard box sat unopened next to him as well as a pet kennel that the cat must have been traveling in.

Damian could hardly meet any of the three pairs of eyes watching his reaction. His own was trained on the adorable animal, heart swelling in his younger Wayne was actually speechless; he was processing the situation as Neo left Jess's lap and made his way to Damian's outstretched, steady hand. The delicate, slightly-wet touch of the cat's curious nose against his skin made the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile, which only grew as the animal seemed to deem him harmless and approachable, climbing into his lap and proceeding to sniff his clothing.

Neo let out a meow as both the young man's hands carefully greeted the animal. Moments later, he was able to bring himself to meet his friend's apprehensive eyes—she seemed to be trying to read him and understand what was going through his head. For a brief second, Damian noticed how the color of her shirt brought out the light green in her hazel irises as he attempted to comprehend what she and his father had done for him.

Perhaps a full minute or two passed, but the only thing he could manage to do was hug them both, all his unspoken words and emotions given through the embraces. Jess then went on to show him the cat toys and items she'd gotten—"_Although_, I know sometimes they don't even care about actual pet things and just sit in boxes and stuff," she'd added—with a new excitement in her voice that had seemed to arise after realizing Damian had responded positively to the unexpected gift. He couldn't help watching with faint admiration as his friend and family shared enthusiasm and laughter over Neo as he boldly familiarized himself with everyone in the room and its furniture. It wasn't until Jess and Alfred were elsewhere in the manor later on that the twenty-year-old had the chance to speak to Bruce alone, aware of the cloud of contentment following him and growing throughout the day.

He was in the foyer, waiting for Jess so they could go into the city and visit the museum—_her_ suggestion, not his, to which he'd agreed only because she hadn't gone and he wasn't going to be particular about what they did together for the day—when Bruce passed through from one of the hallways.

As Damian sat on the bottom step of the stairs, he found himself saying, "Father, I… wanted to thank you."

Blue eyes appraised him carefully as the older Wayne stopped in his tracks. "I wasn't sure if you were ready for another companion, but...she convinced me it was a good idea."

Hmm. What had made her so confident about that?

"I meant thank you for… not telling her the truth," Damian tried again, gaze averted. "About the scholarship. Though I do appreciate you getting Neo as well."

Understanding fell across Bruce's face before he joined his son on the stairs.

"Truthfully, I don't always quite understand the things you do, son," he responded with a note of hesitation. "But this time around, I know you've had nothing but good intentions. And I can't say I disagree with your choice on this one."

"It's unfortunate that it will be for nothing."

He looked over and saw the questioning look his father gave him and continued, "She's going to refuse it and insist she stays in Central City."

"How do you know that?"

At first, Damian wasn't sure how to respond, but as he remained there at the bottom of the stairs, eyes trained on the polished, hardwood floor, he found his answer.

"Because she's not very good at choosing let alone seeing what is good for her."

And as much as he wanted her to make what he believed was the right choice, Damian was not naive. He could only nudge her in the right direction for so long and in so many ways, yet the ultimate reality was that Jess's life was up to her and her own decisions. She was uniquely awful at doing what was best for herself, still tripping over her own feet after losing her family, so perhaps the only thing he could do was be around for her. (That didn't mean he wouldn't be biting his tongue on the sidelines, wishing she would do things differently.)

Damian Wayne went to lengths to get what he wanted… but, in the same way it had happened two years ago, he was going to accept that he wouldn't get what his heart desired this time.

He would let her go.

* * *

The two of them stood at the edge of Burnley, overlooking Sprang River as its dark waters rushed under the bridge connecting two of the city's islands. The day was nearing its end, washing the sky in a blend of deep purple and blue and enveloping the atmosphere with a chill. Twinkling city lights shone both in front of and behind them as the darkness continued to fall. Jess shivered a bit in her jacket, unconsciously stepping closer to the black-haired young man beside her whose unreadable, green eyes glanced down at her movement.

The light breeze blew through their hair as Gotham's evening traffic roared faintly behind them. Where they stood, Jess could smell the water and crisp, nighttime air that was usually rare, considering she spent most of her time walking the streets among scents of street food, car exhaust, or rain. Something about standing there in silence with just a handrail between them and the waters, the city transitioning into its nightlife around them, was enthralling, an experience the teen wouldn't have guessed coming.

But then again, she hadn't foreseen the reason why they were there either.

Sticking her hand in her pocket, Jess retrieved the small, clear baggie that still had several uses of the cursed drug left and stared at it for several moments. The sparkling, crystallized powder seemed to wink at her in the fading daylight, like it was taunting her… or telling her the opposite of what she knew had to be done.

She didn't waste any more time. The stash was soaring through the air now, arcing in the evening sky until it fell with an inaudible, barely-visible splash into the waves and was swallowed into its depths. The gesture, the entire idea of coming out here to do this, might have been melodramatic and the kind of thing that happened in movies, but Jess didn't really care; her chest was filling with a bittersweet feeling, one that had her reflecting upon the last few months and the decisions she'd made. If this was her first step in the right direction—more like _back_ in the right direction since she had honestly just gone off the path—then so be it. It had to count for something, right?

Jess let out a deep breath and turned to Damian, about to mention leaving when she caught the look on his face that almost had her floored.

For what felt like the first time (though this was easily the third), her friend was regarding her with an expression that seemed to pierce right through her. The emerald greens were strangely bright with fondness and admiration, as if what she had done had meant as much to him as it did to her.

_Because it does,_ she heard in the back of her mind.

In spite of how his intense, candid gaze made Jess feel like she wanted to tear her eyes away, it also made her feel... _seen_. Like she was important, like she mattered.

And his mouth. The corners were lifting a little, creating the closest thing to a smile she had ever seen on Damian in the entire time she'd known him. But it wasn't the kind that he hinted at when he was (sort of) laughing at her jokes or something dumb Dick had said; this was one that had warmth and pleasant surprise rising in Jess's chest. It had her smiling, too, though with an inkling of embarrassment since the entire exchange was just so unexpected.

Damian Wayne was actually smiling at her.

The realization nearly had her laughing at how ridiculous it sounded, but before she could even try to make a joke about it, he then told her something she hadn't heard from anyone in a long time. The words—once spoken by the two people no longer in her life, who had always been her cheerleaders on and off the bleachers—rendered Jess voiceless and dumbfounded. The smile on her face faltered a little as she absorbed what he'd said, aware of the sudden tightening in her heart and chest. A part of her wanted to break the wave of emotions threatening to envelop her with a witty comment or laugh, but she couldn't. So Jess let it come, fighting against the urge to cry for what was probably the fourth time that week.

"I'm proud of you."

And then the words she'd held onto the last few days were rising in her throat, begging to be said no matter how much time she had spent trying to figure out how to say them. All she knew was that she didn't want to see the disappointment and potential hurt cross his face, knowing she would be the reason he felt them.

Especially after him saying something like that.

Because what she wanted to tell him could make or break what they had, right? _No_, a voice told her, _he would understand. He would still be proud of you._

"Damian..." Jess could barely say, throat too tight to speak clearly. "I-I've thought about it, and… I… I'm not going—I can't..."

She couldn't look at him anymore. Her eyes ripped from his intense gaze as she choked on her own voice, and the next thing she knew, his arms were around her for the third time that day. Despite not being able to finish what she'd tried to say, she'd seen the look on his face before her vision blurred: he knew. Jess could tell, as they held one another among the soft, crashing waves and a blanket of Gotham's darkness, that her friend already understood... that Damian knew her decision had been made.

_I can't stay._

* * *

**Note:** hey guys, thanks for your patience and all the love for the last update! i know this chapter was kinda fluffy and very DamiJess-heavy, and i'll admit some of this was rushed but hopefully ya enjoyed it xD I have lots planned anyway for the next couple updates hehe.

thank you all so much for the reviews, i'll address the common remarks!

\- i'm obviously biased and on team Damian, too lol but I promise i have some intense (but good) stuff lined up for the Kade side story line. we just have more, uh, road bumps to get there (so sorry, curlystruggle, HANG IN THERE). it'll be worth it ;)

\- idk if any of you are surprised Jess decided not to stay in Gotham, but i actually had a hard time going back and forth and trying to figure out what decision she'd make and how it'd play out. and as we all know, our girl Jess isn't very good at doing things that are good for her as Damian so smartly put it lol. (plus, her going back to Central City will just lead to things I have in mind later down the road). human beings are so fickle and react in such different ways to life, so i definitely want Jess to go through some character building and more hiccups alongside her growing relationship with Damian, which obviously just makes things more complicated for the both of them haha

\- i also have some plans for incorporating more of the bat fam, including Selina, so that'll be coming as well! however, it made sense for me this time around to have Damian's birthday celebration be small and emphasize how separated and distant everyone else is :( but in the meantime, i WILL say that more Jason is coming very, very soon :D

i do have at least half of the next chapter written, so if things go as planned, the next update won't be too far. THANK YOU again, you're all amazing *insert heart emojis*


	28. A Simple Request

cw: mild suggestive themes

* * *

"_Killing the pressure_

_Release the tension_

_Float to the ceiling_

_You don't wanna be coming down_

_You can use all of me_

_Take a hit, baby, breathe_

_I can do all you need_

_Take a hit, baby, breathe_

_And use me,"_

_~ PVRIS, "Use Me"_

* * *

**Chapter 28: A Simple Request**

"Have you gotten tired of rooftops?"

The dry voice startled Jess from behind, nearly causing her to fall off the swing. She'd been completely alone at the small park, swaying a few inches to and fro while lost in thought as the city's looming darkness deepened in the sky above her.

Turning around, she saw the familiar green-and-red hero approaching her slowly, his hood pulled over his head and casting a shadow across his masked face. Relieved but also hardly surprised that it was him, Jess wrapped her jacket closer around herself and pushed at the ground with her foot to begin swinging again.

"Needed a change of scenery, I guess," she responded.

In the corner of her eye, Robin was leaning against the pole of the swing set and crossing his arms. Though it was hard to see his eyes, she could feel his gaze on her as she stared at the ground.

A few moments passed before Jess decided to ask, "Did you come find me because you know I'm leaving Gotham?"

"Something like that."

"Why?"

She glanced at him, her feet dragging lightly across the ground. It was a little strange, the way he looked standing there in his heroic gear with playground equipment around him. He appeared completely out-of-place and as if he didn't belong.

"I'm... not sure," Robin finally replied in a low voice.

Jess tore her gaze away, looking at nothing in particular ahead of her. Last time she'd run into the young hero, she'd been a little annoyed that he'd sought her out to bug her about stardust and ask so many questions. However... it felt different tonight, and she didn't mind his company—yet. It didn't feel like he was here now for the same reason though; if anything, Jess found it intriguing that he had showed up, knowing she was going back home. Maybe he had something to say? But about what? Was it a goodbye?

"I'm not doing it anymore," she found herself telling him. "Stardust, I mean. I... I've been off it for a few days."

But not without consequence.

She'd never really experienced withdrawal symptoms since taking up the drug, but ever since her use had recently increased by, well, a lot, her body was punishing her for it. It wasn't entirely physical—instead, the signs were mostly mental in the way that Jess kept mindlessly reaching for her pocket out of habit and finding it empty. Whenever she ate or drank, her immediate intention was to find the stash she'd used to keep on her and add it. Headaches had been coming and going, relieved now instead with painkillers and more sleep.

But the anxiety. The rampant thoughts and emotions that fought in her head were louder now and more difficult to control. Though Damian hadn't known it, she'd begun the morning in tears because the first things to cross her mind were that she had to go back to a place that no longer felt like home, that she had to work ten times harder to get back on track... that she was leaving behind friendships and a city she'd never thought she'd grow attached to.

Even now, Jess was working to contain the stress building in her chest as she continued swinging back and forth, focusing on being as present as possible and paying attention to all her senses. The air was slightly cold with a hint of the smell of dewy rain—the late night forecast suggested light showers—and a particular, cool shade of blue filled their surroundings as the night fell upon them.

"It's probably for the best," Robin said from where he stood.

Several beats of silence passed before he then asked something she hadn't expected at all.

"That first day we met… why did you heal me?"

There was a bit of hesitation in his voice, which seemed unusual to hear from someone who was, well, a _hero_. At the same time, it seemed to hint at his humanity and the undeniable fact that there was a real person underneath that mask... albeit someone she would probably never get to meet or know.

The answer to his question was simple.

Glancing up at him, Jess responded quietly, "Why wouldn't I?"

"You could have left me. You could have caught up to the others when they called for you."

She shrugged, looking back down at the ground as she kicked off of it once more. "I could have done a lot of things… but in that moment, I just chose to help you. I guess it was because I wanted to, maybe because I should, maybe because—"

A startling thought crossed her mind then, filling her with a bittersweet realization.

"Maybe… I wanted to feel like I'm meant to heal with these powers instead of harm."

"That's up to you to decide."

"Yeah," Jess found herself saying thoughtfully. "I think I'm starting to understand that now."

And she was. After a summer full of responsibilities and adventures she had never foreseen, Jess felt like she was starting to scratch away at the surface of what her life was supposed to be like—what it _could_ look like. With the exception of the time she'd met Jason/Red Hood, all she had done with her powers was heal; it'd been her choice, her intention to seek out Patrick Dobra and undo the terrible thing she'd done. The same went for Damian because, well, how could she _not_ repair his injuries and make them go away?

"Do you think you could do me a favor? Just… one thing."

Robin said nothing, waiting.

Unable to look towards him, she trained her gaze on her shoes as she said, "I know you look after this entire city, and, I mean, I can't imagine what kind of pressure that puts on you. But I… I was wondering…"

_Just spit it out, Jess._

"There's this guy, a friend I made this summer. Um, long story short, I feel like he needs a little… 'looking after.'" Jess stopped swinging then as she hesitated, glancing at the young hero beside her. A lump was forming in her throat that she tried to swallow past. "Could you... maybe check in on him once in a while? Or even just once after I leave. I know it's a lot to ask and a weird request, a-and I get it if you—"

"Is it Kade Noor?"

She shook her head. Of course he'd name the only guy they had talked about last time they'd met… the guy who had gotten her into stardust. "No... His name is Damian Wayne."

He didn't respond for so long that she grew afraid he would refuse. Surely he knew Damian was Bruce's son, so did that have something to do with it? Was she really asking too much? Even though she'd prepared herself for the worst, the possibility the young hero would say no, it still rattled her nerves as she impatiently awaited his response.

"Consider it done."

Brows raising in shock, she had to take a moment to confirm that Robin was, in fact, accepting her unusual request. He pushed himself off the pole and sat in the swing next to her, but he only sat still. The image of him in the seat was even more comical than when he'd been leaning against the pole.

"Really?"

"Yeah, 'really.'"

"... Thanks."

He turned to face her, the whitish-gray pupils of his mask strangely bright in the darkness. "You seem to care enough about this Damian to ask for such a thing."

Jess felt a drop of rain hit her face, making her look up at the dark blue canvas above them. Seconds later, another light droplet made contact with her cheek. "Well, you're not wrong," she answered, face still turned upward. "It's not that he can't take care of himself, but… I don't know."

It felt like there was no other way to properly explain herself and why she'd felt compelled to ask for his help, but then the brunette said:

"He's just one of those people you want to take care of even when you're not around, you know?"

Speaking the unexpected words aloud was jarring to Jess herself; she stopped swinging, lowering her gaze from the sky to the ground. Never had the teen ever really thought that she wanted to "take care of" her friend, yet… there was no denying that her statement was true. Not that there was some immediate threat looming or—as she'd said to Robin—that he wouldn't be fine on his own, but Jess was coming to terms with the fact that she was a little worried about leaving Damian. It was one thing to not want to go back to Central City simply because there was nothing there for her, and it was another that she didn't want to leave behind a friend who seemed like he'd depended on their friendship the way she had, too.

The thoughts were tumbling out now as if they'd been buried in her conscience and needed to be let out.

"It feels like he's done so much for me since we met, and somehow... I just know I have to do the same. He's looked out for me—I need to look out for him, too." Jess paused before adding in a quieter voice, "Even if I'm not here. In some way, shape, or form... I have to make sure he'll be okay. Even if it means asking someone like you to just check on him."

How weird was it that she was telling Robin all this? An accomplished hero who probably didn't know anything about her friendship with Damian and probably didn't care. At the same time, he'd been around that night she'd mourned her parents and sought her out to tell her to stop using stardust—somehow, all these times they'd run into each other felt part of a bigger picture, one that had Jess wondering if somehow the guy... cared? Sure, she knew nothing about who he was behind the mask, but it couldn't be coincidence that she'd seen him this often over the last few months; and despite the secret identity, she'd grown used to their run-ins. There was something oddly comforting and welcoming about his presence, and maybe that was why she felt okay being open with him.

"I'll admit I'm surprised you trust me enough to ask me to do that," Robin expressed as if reading her mind.

"I am, too, honestly. But I guess... after all this time and all the _visits_ you've paid me—" her tone was jokingly begrudging, "—I kinda feel like you've also had my back in a weird, showing-up-everywhere way. Correct me if I'm wrong though."

"You're not."

And then he was saying, "I don't understand why you're leaving, then. It seems like you want to stay. You've made friends, gotten comfortable—and you clearly love watching the city lights and the night life, which is beyond me."

Jess let out a scoff. "Yeah, well, I suppose if there's anyone who's dumb enough to roam Gotham at night, it'd be me, of course." She considered the other part of what he'd said, knowing it wasn't a topic she wanted to dwell on. Just thinking about it sent sadness washing through her.

"And I don't expect you to understand why I'm not staying... or even coming back anytime soon."

_All I know is that I still don't believe I deserve to take that scholarship and be here._

"Is this your way of punishing yourself?"

Something about the statement made Jess's throat close as she glanced at him warily. The young hero was eying her, making her look away like a child who'd gotten caught red-handed.

"Let's just say that on the bright side, you have one less criminal to keep up with here," she tried to respond humorously but the joke seemed to fall flat.

Robin was silent beside her, and for that, she was grateful because she didn't want to spend another second in emotional shambles. Her day, as fun and joyous as it was hanging out the entire time with Damian, had already been pretty sentimental for too many reasons and Jess didn't need to end it with another crying session. For the moment, she was okay with sitting there on that swing next to someone who felt like a stranger yet familiar at the same time.

Months ago, seeing the young hero would usually intimidate her a little, make her feel weird and hesitant like that night he'd visited her on the hotel roof to check on her.

"I'm here to see how you're doing," he'd said.

Of course, she couldn't forget the dramatic exit he'd made, telling her that it was only Batman who'd trusted her, not him. It was funny, really, seeing how, despite feeling like Robin had possessed negative feelings towards her while Batman was the one to confront her about changing her life, it was the younger hero who had somehow stuck around over the summer. Although Jess would probably never find out why that was let alone the real faces behind those masks, part of her was thankful for it. Disregarding the long ways she had to go in improving her life and the decisions she'd made, the two heroes who watched over Gotham were a big reason why she was even there, alive, off the streets, and no longer running around hurting people, right?

"Thanks for… you know, earlier this summer. Tracking me down and all," Jess managed to speak up, her voice quiet in the night air.

His masked eyes turned towards her. "We didn't stop you; you turned yourself in."

"Yeah, but—"

"I know you're aware of what I thought of you in the beginning, but I'm not one to take credit where it isn't due," he interrupted. "_You_ turned yourself in. We simply kept an eye on you after that."

Her foot made contact with the ground to give herself another push on the swing. "Well, thanks for that then. And…" Hesitation had her pausing for a long moment before she added, "Could you tell him that for me?"

Her question was greeted by silence, and then she heard, "He already knows."

* * *

He was usually pretty decent at being able to tell when someone was lying. Sure, it could've been all the training he'd gone through growing up or maybe people were just shit at being deceptive to his face—he couldn't be _that _menacing and intimidating, could he? No chance. But on the other hand, he was a good liar himself and never hesitated to lie through a smirk when it was necessary (or just when he felt like it). It'd become practice over the years whenever women asked him about his past, what he liked to do for fun, what his "job" was, about his family.

Lie, lie, lie. Every fabricated, bullshit answer came and went as easily and quickly as the rare worries he ever had about it coming back to bite him in the ass.

Still, there wasn't an ounce of shock when he came across the familiar figures in the park while out and about. If anything, it was just pure amusement he felt under the helmet while he watched as his baby brother had some touching heart-to-heart with the girl he'd broken into his apartment for the other week. Jess was her name, right? Jessica Fairchild.

Maybe Jason still would have been fooled by the way his brother had played off his interest in the girl that night if it wasn't for the fact that the older man overheard what she said about "Damian Wayne." He would have probably continued under the impression that Damian really was keeping tabs on her just because she'd been part of a case, but nope. That obviously wasn't what was happening here, not when the teenage girl had just said something about Robin looking after her friend.

Her friend, his brother, the guy sitting on the swing right next to her.

Damian was real confident in that secret identity of his, wasn't he?

Sitting on the grass with his back against the short, brick wall, Jason let their voices carry from the other side as he listened in on the rest of their conversation. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but he wasn't impatient for the two to wrap up; it was interesting, to say the least, hearing how the Baby Bat interacted with Jess, how she was so clearly oblivious to who he really was. She seemed to be grateful for Batman and Robin's involvement—_Pfft,_ he'd thought to himself with a mental eyeroll—and wanted the younger hero to pass the message along. Some time later, the soft crunch of shoes on the park's pebbles indicated her leaving as the two of them exchanged awkwardly "Well, I guess this is goodbye" and "Take care of yourself."

Not even a full minute passed before Jason heard "You can come out now."

The corner of his mouth lifting upward, he pushed himself to his feet and went through the nearest entrance. Robin was standing towards the back of the small park, partially hidden beneath the group of dark, towering trees behind him that were drifting in the slight breeze. Stopping a few yards away, Jason crossed his arms and waited for the young man to chew him out for eavesdropping. Despite his jacket, he could feel the light mist of rain beginning to drop onto the back of his exposed neck.

"I suppose you heard most of that conversation."

"I heard enough to figure out you're not just keeping tabs on her for shits and giggles." Jason's voice was slightly robotic due to his helmet; he reached up and removed it, feeling a little more exposed but like himself. Tucking it under his arm, he trained his cool gaze on the red-and-green figure ahead of him. "So she's your friend, huh? Damian's friend," he added, voice clearer as it stretched the distance between the two.

"That isn't your business," he was quick to respond.

Ignoring him, Jason continued, "Makes sense why you went through all that trouble to find me. You probably wouldn't have done it if it was just some other teenager, but because it's _her_…"

He did understand, there was no denying that. If there was anything he knew wholeheartedly and confidently about his little brother, it was that he never put one-hundred-percent of himself and his effort into anything without very good reason. And considering Damian was the kind of guy he was, hard-headed, snotty, with stupidly-high standards when it came to _anything_… it made complete sense that the kid had overlooked their strained relationship to do something that benefited his friendship with this girl. Just based on what Jason already knew about her, she seemed pretty troublesome and like a handful, which was a bit unusual when it came to Damian's typical choice of friends.

Realizing this brought sourness into Jason's gut, old sensations of failure and animosity reminding him why, even under that damned green mask, he could knew those blazing, green eyes were regarding him with hatred.

"What are you getting at, Todd?"

His tone was laced with poison, making irritation flare under Jason's skin. "Look, I don't care that you kept that from me when you broke into my place, and, frankly, I don't care at all that you're obviously friends either," he retorted, "but I'm not an idiot."

"I beg to differ."

_Of course you do._

His jacket pocket was burning with the sole reason he'd even gone out looking for Robin, and considering the way this exchange was going, part of him wanted to just turn around and walk away. What the fuck was he doing there anyway, thinking this was a good idea? Not like he hadn't expected some more hostility from his little brother after what had happened years ago, but Jesus, would it be possible for the demon spawn to cut him a break for two seconds?

He decided to ask.

"Is there any way you can stop hissing at me like a feral cat for, like, a minute or two? Or are you gonna keep acting like—"

"Like what?" Robin challenged, stepping forward but still remaining under the thick shadows of the trees. The whitish pupils of his mask seemed to flash. "Like I no longer want to associate myself with someone whose foolish decisions drove away someone I cared for?"

Hot annoyance flooded his veins. "Don't you start that shit again—"

"I'm not starting anything. I'm ending—_have_ ended any possibility for you to hurt anyone close to me again," the younger hero urged in a low voice.

"Yeah? And how did you do that?" Jason didn't wait, going on when he saw Robin's mouth open to respond. "You talking about all the times I reached out to you and you ignored me? Or even when Dick tried getting you to see reason but you refused, which is so goddamn typical of you? How about Christmas that year when I showed up and you literally _left_ 'cause you couldn't stand to see me?"

Heart pounding, he managed to get a grip on his feelings as he shut his mouth and watched no sign of emotion or reaction cross Robin's face. He knew his brother wouldn't allow himself to break that look of indignation because the kid was just that stubborn and prideful when it came to showing weakness or vulnerability.

But Jason himself had mistakenly slipped. Though he tended to be as closed-off and protective of his emotions as Damian could be, the older man had never been as successful. His self-control had never been as practiced, and when they got the better of him, the results were always hellish and disastrous. Even at that moment, he could tell that it was starting to feel difficult knowing the direction their interaction was going… and he was pretty damn sick of it.

Robin, still calm despite Jason's outburst, then responded simply, "Yes. And in order to maintain all of that after tonight, I don't intend on speaking to you again."

"Unless _she _gets tangled up in another thing that you'll need me for."

He saw the way the young hero's brows furrowed together, indicating his gaze was narrowing behind the mask.

"I didn't '_need'_ you, Todd," he replied with acidity thick in his tone. Jason recognized the tension in Robin's figure as he continued, "I didn't _need_ you when I approached you last week, I don't _need_ you now."

Then Robin was adding, "I learned my lesson when I thought I needed you two years ago. And if there is one thing I can look forward to with Jessica leaving Gotham, it's that she won't be around for _you_ to hurt with another mistake."

Ouch.

"Friendly reminder that I'm the one who saved her that night and _you _weren't around, hot shot," Jason interjected with a glare.

His next words were out before he could even consider them.

"Oh, wait, that sounds pretty fuckin' familiar, doesn't it?"

There. The briefest flash of something across his brother's masked face that suggested what Jason had said got through to him. At first, it was haughty satisfaction searing through him, making him feel like he'd gotten the upper hand in the disagreement, but then something else followed… a harrowing, almost dismal tugging in his chest that brought a memory behind his eyes. He recalled the apprehension and fear that he'd seen on his little brother's face, how he'd asked himself if he had ever seen the teen so vulnerable and overwhelmed. He could almost feel again what it'd been like, desperately trying to decide between saving the girl or her father despite what Damian had told him to do, how he hadn't known what the hell was the right decision or if the team would get everyone out alive. That night, all Jason had wanted was to protect someone that his brother had cared about but had walked away having broken the relationship they'd managed to build over the years. It was a low blow for sure, highlighting the parallel between that night rescuing Jess and that night, two years ago, rescuing (but in the end, also losing) Irene. As he stood there, eyes still on the other masked hero, that dismal feeling practically made him wish—

No. It didn't make him wish a damn thing.

"Believe it or not, I didn't come here to argue," he forced himself to say, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Like I said, I don't give a damn about what you have going on with this Jess girl."

_Which is exactly what you want anyway._

Suddenly feeling suffocated after the escalated conversation, Jason reached into his pocket and grabbed the small USB drive. He tossed it towards Robin, who caught it and glanced down at it.

"That should help you out," was all he said before donning his helmet once more and turning to leave.

He could feel those green eyes on him as he walked away. Although every nerve in his body screamed for him to keep going, to continue turning his back the way he had for the last two years, something was stronger than that will. The quiet crunch of his footsteps paused as he turned his head to look back though his gaze didn't actually land on Robin.

"Happy birthday, demon spawn."

* * *

She wasn't sure if she'd even slept. It'd been sometime close to midnight when Jess had concluded her video call with Misty and gone to bed. Lots of tossing and turning later, she'd checked her phone to see that it was already nine in the morning and daylight was peeking through the window curtains. She had a few hours until Damian took her to the airport that afternoon, meaning she had time to kill.

That said, Jess had made plans. After a shower and trying on several different outfits, she settled on a t-shirt tucked into a skater skirt. It took another ten minutes to decide whether she'd do anything with her hair, but enough frustration had the brunette blow-drying the locks and calling it good. Standing in front of the mirror, she appraised herself and battled with the nervousness rising in her stomach. A small part of her was voicing doubt, but somehow, the rest of Jess stood determined to follow through with what the morning held for her. Her small, trusty bottle of lavender that she'd depended on the last few months had Jess dabbing the essential oil onto her wrists and breathing in the calming scent, willing it to settle her nerves.

Her morning started out with Misty scooping her from the facility to grab breakfast. Over a cup of coffee, pancakes, eggs, and the traditional works, her friend expressed disappointment over Jess's decision to go back home and not return to Gotham for the scholarship to the academy.

"But I do hope you get to visit for the holidays or something at least," she'd said, to which Jess had told her it was possible… but not promised.

Of course, Misty had also asked how Damian had taken the news. Gaze trained on her coffee cup, Jess had been vaguely reminded of that day she and him had spontaneously gone to get lunch while waiting for the city hall to get those publications together, how he'd caught her staring at him, the way he'd seemed unwilling to play their little game of getting to know one another. The memory had brought a bittersweet mix of sadness and amusement as she sat there, telling her friend that Damian hadn't really said much about her decision. He hadn't offered much of a reaction.

"He kind of just… accepted it," Jess had explained.

Outside, on the bustling sidewalk of Gotham, Misty pulled her into a hug. "If you can't visit, I'm sure I can for Thanksgiving or spring break or somethin'. And I _know _Damian could with that fat wallet of his."

_I'm counting on it._

"Thanks for sticking by me this summer," Jess told her as she squeezed the other girl then stepped back to grin a little at her. "And, uh, not running away when I told you why I was here."

"Dude, you know it would take a lot for me to not be friends with someone. Besides, you're getting your shit together, and that's gotta count for something, right?"

Her friend's dark eyes sparkled, making her chest tighten as she wished, for the thousandth time since making her choice, that she could stay. And then Jess was waving at Misty as she walked in the direction of her car, watching the short teen with her pink-and-black hair disappear among the Gothamites walking and biking past.

It didn't take long for him to arrive. He'd pulled up not far from the restaurant, and her stomach was doing somersaults as she opened the passenger door and climbed in.

"Hey."

Kade greeted her with that signature, lopsided grin of his, intensifying the tingling in her nerves. His attire was casual: sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. She could detect his sharp cologne from where she sat, and her eyes couldn't help taking in the tousled albeit attractive state of his hair, like he'd just woken up and simply combed his fingers through it.

"Hi," she returned with a smile.

"You're looking cute this morning."

The compliment had her cheeks warming. "Could say the same about you."

"Eh, I look like a mess," he then said with a laugh as he turned into the road, eyes in his rear view mirror. "I kind of woke up late 'cause I didn't set an alarm. Threw on yesterday's clothes and hopped in the car."

Jess gave a shrug as she got comfortable in the seat, tugging at the edge of her skirt. "Well, if there's anyone who can wake up and still look good, it's you," she flirted casually.

Though her eyes were turned onto the radio as she pushed the buttons to find a decent station, she could feel him looking in her direction. Against her will and despite trying to appear nonchalant, she glanced at him to see those icy irises running over her, from her neck and down to her bare knees. That same heat that'd risen in her cheeks made its way to the rest of her body.

The simmering nervousness returned as they arrived at his house and she helped him make a quick breakfast. The entire time, the two of them talked about the upcoming school year, basic things about one another that they hadn't yet learned (Kade's favorite color was also blue). He'd even asked her if she was going to visit, to which she'd responded that she didn't know. And it wasn't like she could tell him much beyond the truth that her aunt was strict and unreasonable. Kade still knew even less about Jess's secrets than Misty did—she'd never told him anything concerning the facility and why she was even in the city. In fact, it had never come up why she was in Gotham anyway, not even when he'd first asked her if she'd been born and raised here and she'd informed him that home was Central City.

But somehow, Jess was okay with that. Especially considering this "thing" was temporary, what did it matter that they hadn't grown past "friends with benefits"? Sure, they knew trivial stuff about one another like tastes in music, favorite color, whether they believed pineapple on pizza was acceptable—he even knew her parents had died in an accident but that was definitely the most vulnerable part of her life she'd ever shared with him—but that was all she felt she needed in this. Maybe if things were different and she was allowed to stick around, Jess would want something more and find herself opening up to him... except that wasn't the case today.

"I've been meaning to ask..." Kade began after taking a gulp of water (containing stardust, of course), "you gonna be okay without a supply? I mean, I'd give you a pretty good amount to take home, but I don't think you could pack any in your bag with you and get it past security."

Placing her dishes in the sink, Jess hesitated. Until now, she hadn't mentioned to him that she'd made the decision to never touch the drug again. It wasn't like she feared how he'd react though—the white, sparkly powder had been one of the things to bring them together. Not that it should have mattered since she wasn't staying in Gotham, but she'd _liked_ exploring and experiencing the drug with him.

"Well... I'm not going to be using it anymore," she finally answered, turning to face him as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Really?" He raised his brows, but it was only surprise taking over his features; there was no sign of annoyance or irritation. "I know you said it was helping you out a lot... I mean, I guess you were going to have to quit it anyway since it hasn't made it to Central City yet."

With a sigh, she looked down at her hands and lightly snapped her hair tie against her wrist. "Yeah... I just figured I needed to find some other way to deal with how I feel, you know?"

"Like therapy or something?"

"Honestly, maybe. I was going to therapy after the accident, and it helped a little, so..."

She fell silent. Kade approached her, reaching to clasp his hand around hers that was snapping the hair tie. His glacial stare seemed to erase the negative thoughts that had been rising at the mention of her past. "Whatever you gotta do to get better," he told her softly, a smile rising on his handsome features.

His words and touch sent comfort and relief through her. It was nice knowing he seemed to support her decision and had no intentions of making her feel bad about it. The entire situation had her scolding herself for even being hesitant about telling him the truth when he'd clearly taken it so well.

"We still have time for a movie or something if you want," he was telling her with his hand still in hers.

Agreeing, Jess let him lead her out to the living room where they took up the couch. The jitters that had been sitting deep in her bones were back again as she sat right up against Kade, her legs swung across his with her feet on the cushion. She held his arm within hers, highly aware of his hand resting right at her hip. There was no way she'd be able to concentrate on the comedy film he'd put on, not when his other hand was gravitating from her calves to her knees. Neither of them was even looking at the other, both their eyes trained on the TV, yet the silence was thick and heavy with growing tension.

Heat and sparks were following the fingers that were making their way up to her thigh now, drifting past the edge of her skirt. The next thing she knew, his hand had stopped as high was it would go before reaching her underwear. He squeezed her thigh gently, making tingles shoot up her legs and heart rate go through the roof. She tore her gaze from the movie—it wasn't as if she'd been paying attention in the first place—and looked up at him, scanning his profile and taking in the thin brows, long eyelashes, angled jawline, smooth and tanned skin. Kade must have felt her staring because, without even turning his head, he glanced down at her, gray-blue irises flickering first to meet her eyes and then to her mouth. Something like a sly, knowing grin crossed his face as he focused his attention back to the TV screen, like he was trying to hide it... but Jess knew he had little to no interest in the movie as she did.

With a surge of confidence, she reached for his face and turned it back towards her, meeting his lips with hers. He showed no sign of resistance; in fact, the way the hand at her thigh was gripping her told Jess all she needed to know and only contributed to her newfound sense of boldness. A few moments and a little slightly-awkward shuffling later, the brunette's knees were on both sides of him as she sat in his lap, hands behind his neck. Kade broke the kiss only briefly to tug her top over her head the way he had earlier in the week, and that seemed to be when Jess came to realize what was happening.

No... it was more like she was confirming her acceptance to the unfolding circumstances. Since that day in his kitchen, the teen had spent quite some time trying to understand how she felt about Kade's words and what he apparently had been expecting. And while Jess herself hadn't really considered going very far with him anytime before that, curiosity paired with her undeniable interest in him had ultimately made the decision for her. Factor in the reality that she was leaving Gotham and that she didn't think she'd see him again, and all signs pointed to the conclusion that she wanted the same thing as Kade did.

His warm hands had found their way up Jess's skirt to grab her at the waist, intensifying the yearning that had begun deep in her gut. But she had to cut their ongoing kiss short, pulling back to stare into the chilling, dilated eyes that seemed to break through all her mental and emotional walls that were slowly crumbling.

"You okay?" he asked, appraising her.

"Yeah, I just…"

She didn't even know. She knew that she _wanted_ this and that there was no question about it, so why had she paused?

His gaze never left her face as he removed one hand from her waist to gently pinch her cheek. "Something I can do to help you ease up?"

It was as if her body had a mind of its own: Jess lifted one leg so she could reach into the pocket of his sweats, earning a raised brow from the blond. She retrieved the small bag of stardust and looked briefly at it before meeting his attentive gaze.

_Just one more thing._

"I thought…"

"One last time," Jess interrupted him, ignoring the lick of doubt rising in her chest that was followed by a too-familiar voice of reason that she didn't want to hear.

Kade was silent for a minute, splitting a look between the stash and the determined expression in her eyes. Smiling a little, he then took the baggie from her and reached for his water that sat on the living room table behind her, his face brushing past her bare shoulder while he leaned forward. With practiced ease and familiarity, Kade dumped the remaining contents into the drink before offering it up to her.

"One last time," he echoed in a low voice, gray-blue eyes watching as she nearly drank the whole thing… watching and sparkling just like the crushed crystals at the bottom of the glass.

As soon as the cup was back on the table, Jess was taking the bottom hem of his shirt and pulling it upward. Kade's disheveled locks fell over his forehead from the gesture, prompting her to push her fingers through it with one hand and trace from his neck down to his bare, toned abdomen with the other, lips colliding once more against his.

Just like that, she released any sense of control and inhibition that had always driven her emotions, decisions, and entire life for the last few years. She let herself and her desires take the wheel for just this one, limited fraction of time, knowing fully that if there were any consequences or repercussions waiting on the other side, she would face them head-on someday… just not today. All she cared about in these moments were the recognizable results of the drug quickly taking over, guiding her fingers as they found the waistband of Kade's sweats and fueling the buzzing excitement in her veins. After days of having gone without it and going through mild withdrawals, Jess welcomed the cloudy side effects that melted away her worries and made her feel… _better_. The white, powdered crystals were there every step of the way as they lingered in each kiss, touch, breath—just as stardust had done the day Kade had introduced it into her life, it brought the two of them together, again, but much closer this time and without an ounce of restraint between them.

It was just Jess, the guy she really liked, and a novel, liberating haze of stardust and lust that felt unlike anything she had ever imagined.

And for now, that was all she needed.

* * *

The red dot pulsated gently on the screen, unmoving from the same position it had been in on the map. It did so at a slower rate than at which Damian's heart was beating while he stared intently at the dot, as if it would tell him why it was there.

He'd been doing this for hardly a few weeks now; he had tapped into Jess's cell phone the same day discovering she'd been using stardust, and it had given him much of the relief and control that he'd felt was missing. Every time she left the facility or moved a distance longer than a third of a mile, Damian knew. If her phone ever ran out of battery, he knew exactly when it did and what its last location was. And having this real-time, accurate information in his hands gave him the long-overdue sense of direction and command that he'd needed, especially after her unfortunate secret had been revealed. The realization of what she had been doing unbeknownst to him had only made the former assassin determined to fix and perhaps overcompensate for his oversight… his mistake in believing it had ever been a good idea to _not_ keep track of her like he'd always thought was necessary.

It was most definitely necessary, and the red dot's current location did nothing but confirm his judgment about that. For the fourth time this week, Jess was at Kade's home for a reason he regretfully did not know, especially considering it was nearly noon and her flight was departing in a few hours. Part of Damian concluded that she was simply spending time with him—the thought sent irritation through him—before she left for good, but another voice in his head merely didn't care what the reason could be.

All that mattered was that he wished he'd expressed his disapproval of the blond days ago when they had shared that frighteningly intimate conversation in his room. Why hadn't he? Perhaps it was because he had already done so before. The only other explanation Damian could come up with was that they had both been so fixated on Jess herself and the tension between them that anything outside of them and what they had was… meaningless.

Yet that reasoning somehow made more than enough sense.

His phone sat silent and unmoving on the desk, though it seemed to be taunting him. Responding to the itch in him, Damian reached for it and made the call. It rang and rang… until her familiar voice came through.

"Hey, this is Jess. Sorry I missed your call, but just leave me a message—"

He tried again but was met with the same voicemail greeting. Hand flexing open and closed as he tried to relieve the tension in it, the former assassin took a deep breath and sat back in the chair, eyes falling upon that pulsating dot on the computer screen. What were his options now?

After several minutes of contemplation and what felt like mental gymnastics, Damian managed to close the program on the computer and head back into the manor. His feet seemed to carry him to his room where he sat at his desk and watched as his new companion leapt onto the expensive wood, meowing at him with curious, light green eyes. He reached out to rub gently behind Neo's ears, thoughts drifting to yesterday when Jess had left the manor for the last time after their entire day together.

She'd given both Bruce and Alfred a hug, thanking them for allowing her to be around during her time in the city. He'd seen the way his father had looked at her with a fondness similar to the kind he reserved for those close to him. Perhaps it was because of what Damian had told him about the likelihood that she wasn't going to return, but there'd been a particular chagrin in the older Wayne's eyes as he watched the girl step out the door with his son following suit. It'd reminded him of how convinced Bruce had been that Jess was only a teen who could still right her wrongs and abandon the crime-led life she'd fallen into... while Damian had seen nothing but another case to be solved, another "basket case" that his father wanted to fix, as Jason had so eloquently put it. Clearly, if there was anyone between the two of them that had changed their mind since earlier in the summer, it was Damian, and he could only feel that he understood what Bruce might have been thinking or feeling when his friend left the manor.

It felt similar, driving to the airport with Jess gazing out the passenger window, to all the times Damian would take Dick there when his visits were over.

_But different._

There was something different, and a small part of him could only conclude it had to do with not knowing if and when he would see her again. At least with his brother, trips to Gotham were somewhat consistent; on the other hand, Jess did not know if she would be able to do the same. (Yet if it came down to it, Damian was fairly confident he would make the time to go to Central City instead despite whatever fuss Lora Fairchild might conjure at her niece having a friend visit.)

The two of them rode in silence with faint music drifting from the speakers. Perhaps it could have been awkward and weighty, yet Damian only found himself vaguely wondering if there was anything that needed to be said. A small voice in his head yearned to ask about her morning while another urged to remain quiet. As inquisitive ("nosy" in others' eyes) as he was, the young man was more than aware of how his questions could yield… undesirable results.

And knowing how that had turned out a few times before with Jess, he had no desire to ruin their last several minutes together, even if it was at the expense of his curiosity.

In a brief moment, green irises flickered from the road to the girl still looking out her window. She appeared lost in thought, completely unaware of her friend's gaze, with her fingers spinning the ring on her left hand. Though he'd seen her do it a countless number of times, he found himself wondering about the silver piece of jewelry that always adorned her pointer finger. He didn't think he'd ever seen her without it.

For what might have been the hundredth time since meeting her, the same question ran through Damian's mind at that thoughtful, contemplative look he'd learned to spot from miles away.

_What's on your mind?_

* * *

"Let me know when you've landed?"

"I will," Jess responded assuredly, offering him a smile as she turned towards him.

That dread was stirring in her stomach again as they stood near the airport's entrance to departing flights, and so was the bleakness enveloping her entire being at the realization that this was it. She was going "home."

It didn't help that those peculiar, emerald eyes she'd come to know were examining her, filled with something she couldn't really read. They seemed to be speaking to her, prompting a desire in Jess to know what they had to say, especially since they belonged to a person who didn't always know how to express what he wanted or what he thought.

"What are you thinking about?"

Damian raised a brow. "Aren't I the one who asks you that?"

"Yeah, but it's my turn," she replied casually with a shrug. "So… what's going on in that too-smart brain of yours?"

For a second, it looked like he was going to say something, those wrinkles between his brows softening… but then he was instead hugging her, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and washing the brunette in pleasant surprise. Relaxing into the embrace with her own arms at his back, Jess closed her eyes and inhaled his familiar cologne as if needing to memorize it, to remember how warm and comforting he felt. And that was when she knew he was telling her what was on his mind, his thoughts spoken through the way he held her, how his green eyes appraised her when they finally broke apart.

_I'll miss you, too._

Neither of them said anything, so Jess took it upon herself to put her index finger between his brows like she'd done that night they'd spent watching the sunset on the manor roof.

"Premature wrinkles," she jokingly reminded him with a lighthearted grin.

When her hand fell from his face, she caught the look on her friend's face. Though she couldn't quite name what it was, it brought her sharp feelings of confusion and wonder. He was giving her _that_ look, the same one he'd worn while grabbing her wrist at Kade's house, like he was seeing something she couldn't.

A rising apprehension coupled with dread had her attempting to smile at him again, in part to cover up her puzzlement but also to try and play off the hard goodbye. Her throat was closing up no matter how hard she tried to get a hold of herself. Jess grabbed the handle of her suitcase and gave him a corny little wave as she started walking backwards. Then she turned around and trained her gaze on the sliding doors before her, hardly paying attention to the other travelers around as she took slow and steady breaths to calm her heart rate.

"Jessica."

The tiniest hint of urgency in the way he said her name had her spinning to meet his eyes again, and she could see the ghost of hesitation lingering at his lips as he seemed to try and speak. Even those characteristic wrinkles between his brows were gone as if her earlier touch had made them go away.

"I have one thing to ask of you." Damian's gaze fell to the ground, just for a moment, before locking with hers again.

Jess waited, heart pounding a little harder in her chest. She swore there was a shift in the way he looked at her, one that hardened those irises like blown glass—solid yet fragile.

Damian Wayne was a paradox, a mystery that she'd come to appreciate and grow fond of. He was selfish but outlandishly generous, outspoken but selective with what he thought and felt. He turned his nose up at many things while being open to the most mundane or silly things they did together.

He wasn't receptive to much or to many people, but at the same time, he had so much to offer and to give. And she'd been one of the lucky few to be one of the people he'd given his time to and cared for.

Lifting his chin a little as he leveled Jess with a steady gaze, Damian finally said, "Stay out of trouble."

She felt the corners of her mouth lift in a cheeky smile. "I'll try my best," she promised him before reaching for the handle of her suitcase once more.

Maybe her leaving wouldn't be forever. Maybe she'd get to return to Gotham at a later time, have the chance to visit her friends and return to a city that had first been a place of mistakes and nightmares then turned into one she might have called home. At this point, she had no idea what her future held for her and how walking away from all of this would change things, but the only thing she did know was that she had to be okay with that. She'd spent so much time wishing she had more control, more time, just _more_… yet everything Jess had gone through in the past several months had managed to teach her that it mattered less what life threw at her and mattered more what she did with it. Deep down, the teen knew she was bound to stray off the path one, two, maybe three more times, though this time around—as Bruce had told her the day of Titus's burial—now she had people who'd be there for her. All she had to do now was keep them close.

Because the last thing she wanted to do was lose more people she cared about. Again.

* * *

**Note:** i definitely meant to post this a lot sooner since i had 90 percent of it written when i'd last updated, but i just had absolutely no inspiration to write the last 10 percent *sigh* so thanks for your patience!

as always, thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows!

evabrennan: last chapter was definitely a stepping stone for both of them, and there will certainly be more (with road bumps obviously). we shall see how this whole "quitting stardust and going back to Central City" thing works out... or doesn't?... soon hehe.

curlystruggle: we do have even more Jason coming 'cause i want to explore his relationship (or rather lack thereof, considering what we've seen so far xD) with Damian and also explain further what they went through in the past. _psst _— it's both dramatic and traumatic, but that's pretty much what this whole story has been, so no surprise lol.

reddevil47: so glad you're a fan of how Damian's written :') i agree that the opportunity was lost but i suppose, on the bright side, that lets DC fanfic writers do what we do best and take our own stab at it eh?

until next time! hope you're doing well, xx


	29. An Impasse

"_Is it alright if I don't make sense_

_Even to myself?_

_Can I call you back again?_

_When I'm out of feelings_

_Done with missing out on things_

_And I'm missing you_

_Can I call you back?"_

_~ Shy Martin, "Can i call you back?"_

* * *

**Chapter 29: An Impasse**

**11 days later**

"Miserable."

"... How so?"

Well, where would she start? It'd been eleven days since arriving back in Central City, a span of time she'd list in her top three worst periods of her life. Though she'd anticipated a sure struggle in her transition back home, nothing would have prepared Jess for the overwhelming, suffocating feelings of loneliness and desolation. It almost didn't matter that she stayed in contact with Misty and Damian, being on phone or video calls and texting with them almost everyday; her only social, in-person interaction was with Lora, and that in itself was already limited.

Because the anxiety about being in this city that offered her nothing had the teen shutting herself away in her room most of the time and hardly leaving the house. She spent her days sleeping, finding ways to entertain herself with tv shows and movies, social media, anything that would occupy her time. Of course, Jess had tried and gone out a handful of times to revisit a few places she'd kind of missed, taking a walk to one of Central City's parks or stopping by the mall to see if retail therapy would provide any temporary comfort, but she'd soon found that one of her biggest worries was running into someone she knew. And as the days inched closer to the fall school semester, her uneasiness only worsened and her thoughts became riddled with questions of "What if?".

What if someone asked her about her whereabouts in the last two years? What if they knew she'd run away? What if a classmate had somehow found about the terrible things she'd done? What if she would be forever known as the girl who'd lost both her parents and became a runaway _and_ a juvenile delinquent?

What if she couldn't handle any of it?

And if all of that wasn't enough, Jess was still going through withdrawals from stardust. They'd gradually worsened after leaving Gotham, and now the symptoms were more than mental: she could hardly sleep at night, taking intermittent naps throughout the day, her appetite was all over the place and inconsistent, and there was this heavy, pressing sense of detachment that she couldn't shake. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before, even after the car accident; it was isolation on a whole other level that felt unique compared to what she'd felt after being put into her aunt's care.

Maybe it was because, while she still managed to talk to her two friends back in Gotham, having those connections and knowing she was separated from them made it that much more difficult. Not being able to see her parents ever again was one thing, but only having relationships over a phone line or internet connection was another. That particular distance and detachment was somehow worse in its own way, making Jess feel so much more withdrawn and secluded. It made getting through a single day harder than it needed to be, and there had been a few times when she'd almost broken down from the crushing feeling.

Even as she laid on her bed, earbuds plugged in as she contemplated how to answer her friend's question, she could feel that weighty isolation as it sat uncomfortably deep in her chest. It was like she was.. _stuck_ in place here with nowhere to go.

"I dunno," Jess finally answered.

Her eyes were starting to sting, but she couldn't bring herself to really explain what she was feeling. There was no desire to get anything off her chest, only a yearning to cry... Though Jess didn't want to do that either because then Damian would worry. And she couldn't have him doing that.

"I mean, my aunt's just being annoying like usual," she added nonchalantly, managing to keep her voice even despite the tightness in her throat.

"Nagging you about finding a job and getting your license?" his voice came through the earbuds, giving her the closest imitation of him being there with her.

"Yeah. I mean, I have that two-day course this week that she made me sign up for and then the test next week, but as for a job… I dunno, I just..."

_I don't want to do either of them. I don't want to do anything at all._

She decided to change the subject. "Neo still doing good?"

"He's as approachable and curious as ever. We've found that he likes to spend his time in high places—at the top of a bookshelf, on the fridge. Only half the time does he respond to me and come down when I coax him."

"Sounds like he's being a cat then. Is he still sleeping with you on the bed?"

"Sometimes. If it isn't my bed, it's elsewhere in the manor. He doesn't seem to be fond of the one you picked out."

"Yup, definitely sounds like a cat."

Several moments of silence passed with Jess laying there, not knowing what to say. It felt like only so much could be said about their days, catching up on whatever was new (which wasn't much for either of them besides Neo getting accustomed to the manor and Jess attempting to settle back in), but it just wasn't enough. Not that there was anything particularly _boring_ about talking with him—it never was—yet the teen just wished she could go out and actually do something with her friend. To _be_ with him, watching a movie, bothering Alfred, playing with Neo together.

She laid as comfortably as she could with neither of them speaking until Damian's voice came through.

"Jessica."

"Hm?"

"... Will you be alright?"

Tears burned in her eyes at his question but she refused to let them slip by shutting them and biting her lip. She took as even a breath as possible, careful not to let it be too loud in case he caught it.

After the steady breath, Jess managed to answer calmly, "Of course. I'm just still readjusting, you know?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and she was pretty sure he knew she was lying. She was fully prepared for him to call her out on it until she found herself speaking again.

"I'm, uh, gonna go take a bath. My aunt will be off work soon, so I should probably get off my ass."

Maybe he would have protested, insisting she wasn't actually okay and that he felt her lying through the phone...

But he didn't.

"I'll talk to you later then."

"Send me another picture of Neo... of _you_ and Neo this time," Jess corrected herself.

"You know I don't take 'selfies.'"

"Come on. For me? I just wanna see how cute you two look together."

"... We'll see."

"Fiiine... Talk to you later."

"Goodbye, Jessica."

"Bye, Dami."

As soon as the line went dead, she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and let out a deep sigh while the tears she'd held back finally escaped.

* * *

Her next attempt at finding normalcy was the ice rink.

The last time she'd been there had been just days before the car accident, and not much seemed to have changed about it since. Everything from the blue seats to the jumbotron and even the lockers was the same. Thankfully, there were only a few people and kids this morning—the only thing that had managed to get her to leave the house earlier in the day was knowing it'd get busier later—and she didn't recognize any of them.

Her eyes had been darting around the place as soon as she'd entered since Jess was anxious at the possibility there would be someone she knew from her figure skating or hockey days. Truthfully, she was surprised she'd managed to convince herself to get out and do something, though it'd definitely helped to have Damian insisting she hit the ice and get her mind off things. If there was anything that would do that and bring her a little bit of joy, it had to be skating.

After a few stretches then lacing up the skates Damian had gifted her (she'd found her old ones but stuffed them in the back of her closet) and donning her wireless earbuds, Jess made her way to the rink. She allowed herself to circle around a few times, focusing on the ice below her blades and the slight chill she could feel through her clothes. In doing so, she was reminded of the few times she'd gone to the rink in Gotham with Kade and tried to teach him basic maneuvers. He'd never done very well, but he'd been a good sport about it, which was really all she could've asked for.

The briefest flash of his lopsided grin had her stomach stirring with butterflies as she continued around the ice, trying to concentrate on the classical music playlist she'd used to listen to when she practiced. It was a weird combination, doing these things that brought back memories of her old life while also thinking of the one she'd made back in Gotham. And despite the jumps and spins Jess attempted to concentrate on, she couldn't shake the ghostly touches of his mouth at her neck or his hands gripping her hips like their lives depended on it, how his dilated, gray-blue eyes had been drinking her in the same way she'd downed that glass of stardust. Even then, the memories were vivid, sending the flutters from her stomach down south. She'd gone into that situation knowing she couldn't grow attached to Kade let alone allow herself to think she would ever see him again, but the teen couldn't deny the experience had left her with nothing to be desired.

It was a wonder she'd managed to make herself look presentable again by the time Damian had picked her up.

Would he have been upset if she'd actually told him? She'd wondered about it since deciding she would pursue things with Kade but had ultimately made the choice that she wouldn't tell him. Not like it was really his business, right? He didn't have to know.

Jess's blade nearly hit the ice at a bad angle as she completed a toe loop, her hands shooting out to steady herself though she didn't fall. Straightening up and shaking off the minor mistake, she took a deep breath and skated several feet behind a young girl who had witnessed the imperfect spin. Slight embarrassment flushed the teen's cheeks as she circled around and did the same loop, landing it perfectly this time.

_Don't think about boys, and you'll land your jumps, Jess._

About an hour later, she was packing up her things and wondering to herself if she should grab food on the way home. _I could go for Alfred's lasagna right now..._ She was completely lost in thought as she headed towards the arena's front doors when someone said her name.

A girl, holding skates in one hand and her reddish-brown locks pulled back into a bun, was approaching her after having walked in. Her eyes at first filled with hesitation and then widened with shock, giving Jess a onceover. "Is that really you?"

Jess didn't recognize her for a moment — she seemed to be around her age and a few inches shorter — but then old memories and feelings flooded in, images of the other girl's dirty looks from across the rink flashing in her mind, disappointment sinking in her chest as she saw her own scores compared to the redhead's. She'd never found out why Audrey had named her some kind of nemesis after years of training under the same people growing up (especially because they'd gotten along fine for the most part), but Jess had eventually decided she'd do the same, and never once had she thought she would experience such a cliche form of competition.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so surprised to run into someone she'd known at this point returning home. Maybe she should've recovered a lot quicker than she did, standing there in stunned silence for a good minute until Audrey awkwardly looked away and then back at her.

"I, uh, heard a couple months ago that you were back," she told her as she shifted from one foot to the other and readjusted the bag on her shoulder. "I thought I'd see you a lot sooner, honestly."

"Um…"

_Well this is weird._

Jess cleared her throat and tucked flyaway strands of hair behind her ear, offering the other girl a tentative smile. "I came back for a little bit but then left for the summer."

She wasn't going to go into detail about where she'd gone and for what. Definitely not.

"Are you back for good?"

_Unfortunately, yes._

"Yeah, I'm, uh, going back to school next week."

"Oh, that's good," Audrey responded with a smile. She glanced in the direction of the rink then gestured towards Jess. "I see you're getting back on the ice."

In her mind's eye, Jess saw Audrey pulling off a camel spin that she herself hadn't managed to learn quite yet, making her confidence in her own routine plummet. She'd tried to focus on her own skills and growth and even ignore the other girl's clear distaste with her, but she and the unwelcome attitudes always stuck around.

This was the kindest conversation she'd ever had with her in years, Jess noted. It was already really strange in the first place, seeing and talking to someone from her past; it being with a girl who'd normally been standoffish and sometimes downright mean was just even weirder. Did it have something to do with Jess's disappearance? She could only assume Audrey knew that much.

"I am," Jess replied, returning the awkward smile. "I've definitely missed it."

Silence fell between them for several moments as they stood there, a few people passing as they entered and exited through the entrance nearby. Nervousness was simmering deep in Jess's bones, and she suddenly found herself eager to walk away as her eyes darted around their surroundings. Who else was she going to run into? Would another person recognize her? Surely she could make it back home without another run-in… Should she skip grabbing food on the way?

"Uh, well, it was nice seeing you," Audrey was saying then, wary eyes on her.

"Of course she's here," she'd once muttered too loudly years ago, rolling her eyes at Jess approaching the same rink to begin practice.

"If you ever want to, you know, practice together or something, let me know."

"_God knows she needs the extra time on the ice."_

Chest tightening uncomfortably, Jess could only nod and offer another timid smile. She watched the redhead start towards the rink, and that was when she hurried out the door, taking the front steps two at a time.

* * *

When Damian had suddenly turned up with more information than they'd had before about the stardust case, Bruce couldn't help but be a bit curious. Not that he doubted his son's ability to progress a case on his own and in a short amount of time, but there had been multiple signs that pointed toward his suspicion that something was… off.

Firstly, it'd been the night before Jess's departure, and Damian didn't have to say much to Bruce for the older man to figure he was going to spend part of his patrol looking out for her should she be roaming the streets on her own (again). Secondly, he'd cut his patrol shorter than planned, so Batman had still been out meeting with Commissioner Gordon by the time Robin was back at the cave. That meant that by the time Batman himself returned, the younger hero had already analyzed and sorted through all the information on the mystery USB drive.

Thirdly, the drive hadn't come from anywhere. It'd come from a person Bruce had least expected, a peculiar piece of information Damian hadn't mentioned until the next day.

Even then, he couldn't say he was just as surprised when he ran into that same person weeks later. At this point, the duo had managed to take out more than half of the astonishing number of stardust suppliers across the city, cutting the distribution rate by nearly seventy percent of what it used to be. Though they hadn't quite gotten to the primary source when it came to the drug's creators, they were very close to doing so, and Bruce was confident they'd close the case within a week… And it was partially thanks to a son he hadn't seen in over a year.

"I'm guessing that bit of intel helped you two out," Red Hood drawled from where he stood, leaning against the brick wall of an abandoned building.

He and Batman were in Gotham's outskirts, the younger man having dropped in after the latter had concluded a quick investigation in the area. It'd just finished raining, the ground wet with several large puddles here and there, and few street lights illuminated their surroundings.

"It did," Batman answered, several yards away. Beneath his mask, his eyes were reading Red Hood's body language, taking in the way he appeared too aloof and casual, even for him.

He wondered how much his son had changed under that helmet, if it looked like he'd aged since the last time he'd seen him. Did he still have that mischievous glint in his green-blue eyes when he smirked? Did he still refuse to brush his hair unless he'd gotten out of the shower?

"You didn't want to take out the suppliers yourself?"

"Oh, I wanted to, but… someone made it very clear that I shouldn't get in the way. You know, a kid who runs around in red and green, about five-foot-ten, looks at least five years older than he really is."

He couldn't say that sharing intel was characteristic of Red Hood; if anything, it was unusual for the man to do such a thing let alone unheard of that he would concede to Robin's apparent unwillingness to let him work on the same case. Red Hood had always been adamant — "stubborn" wasn't quite the appropriate word (that applied better to someone like Damian) — about his ways and what he decided to get involved in.

"That's never stopped you before," Batman responded evenly.

_So why go through all the trouble of gathering the intel just to hand it over?_

Though he had so many questions, he worked to keep them at bay. He knew he had to choose wisely, tread carefully… especially since that was Jason under there.

"Yeah, well, things have changed, old man," Red Hood said with a shrug. "You and I both know that. Don't have a lot of energy these days to waste on stupid shit like arguing with someone who refuses to lose an argument."

Perhaps it was a far-fetched assumption, but the older man couldn't help wondering if this had something to do with what had happened between him and Damian years ago. He knew there were still old, bitter feelings, at least when it came to his youngest, but where did that apply when it came to Jason? Was he still harboring all that pain and guilt Bruce knew he'd felt back then?

Of course, that unfortunate event had to involve the two people in their family that were the least likely to mend things in a reasonable, practical matter. Out of them all, the universe or gods that be had chosen to pit _those_ two against one another. Not only had Damian and Jason both struggled with their identities and emotions over the years, but they also were stubborn and prideful in their own ways. The two were so alike when it came to turning their noses up and away at things they considered to be beneath them, so much so that it was no surprise neither of them had managed to make any sort of progress in repairing their relationship. To Bruce's knowledge, Jason had made attempts to reach out to his younger brother that yielded no results… Though he knew it'd been at Dick's discretion because Jason Todd was not one to be the first to apologize.

But him going out of his way to put intel on a USB drive and give it to Robin out on patrol had to mean something, didn't it?

"Why would you provide Robin that intel, then?"

Red Hood was silent for several moments before saying, "Figured it was better off in your hands than in GCPD's."

_You're lying._

Fighting the urge to call him out, Batman knew it would take work to get him to admit what his intentions truly were. He only had assumptions and a bit of optimism at this point, but he also knew better than to let his wishes cloud his expectations.

Except the father in him refused to believe there wasn't hope for his two sons.

"We miss you, you know."

The words seemed to hang between them, heavy with years of unexpressed emotions and desires that he'd held onto.

The man under the helmet didn't say anything for so long that, for a curious moment, Batman pondered the possibility that his sentiment had hit home. But then Red Hood was straightening from the wall and readjusting his jacket with newfound standoffishness.

His voice was tinged with indifference as he said, "Appreciate you lying to try and make me feel better, but I don't need it."

"I'm not lying—"

"If you're not lying, then you're just naive. 'We miss you' doesn't include—"

He stopped abruptly though Batman knew exactly what he'd been about to say. If he hadn't been wearing the helmet, he would likely see his son attempting to hide the hurt in his eyes, pressing his lips together in a thin line as he internally scolded himself for nearly slipping up.

_That isn't true, Jason. He does miss you._

Stepping forward once and aware of a painful tugging in his heart, he tried one more time. "Stop by sometime. Maybe for dinner or…"

Batman was never supposed to be emotional under the mask — he was never supposed to let Bruce poke through. He'd perfected the separation of his two identities, compartmentalizing Bruce Wayne's troubles and Batman's nightlife worries as easily as he put t-shirts in one drawer and socks in another. It'd been a technique that, depending on how one looked at it, had saved his life and mental/emotional health protecting the city and the world because blurring the lines had always gotten him in trouble.

Yet as he stood there, facing a son he felt he'd lost all over again but for a reason completely different from the first time… Bruce stumbled upon the understanding that he no longer lived the dual life he used to and certainly not in the same way he'd practiced for so long. As the days and years had passed, more of Bruce Wayne came alive from within the suit, and not even his dedication to keeping his identities separate was as strong as it used to be. How could it remain that way when time had created distance between himself and his children, opening his eyes to what he knew was most important to him above all else? Above even the mission he'd sworn to uphold for as long as he could?

"Thanks, but… I'll have to pass."

Before he could say anything else, Red Hood was walking away, rounding the corner of the building until, moments later, there was the faint and distant roar of a motorcycle engine.

_Or just for a little while_, the older man finished in his head, closing his eyes as the sound of the engine faded into nothing.

At that moment, it wasn't Bruce Wayne, former playboy billionaire, disguised as Gotham's protector and standing alone in the corner of the city.

It was Bruce Wayne,a father, searching for answers and wishing his son would come home.

* * *

He missed her.

Growing used to his siblings leaving the manor to live their own lives should have prepared him, yet it wasn't the same. Having Dick leave after his visits was also unfortunate and a bit saddening in its own right, so no longer being able to see Jess nearly every day had felt like an abrupt interruption in Damian's life. Although part of him liked to think he'd done what he could to mentally and emotionally prepare for the miles put between them, he'd found it somewhat... _difficult_... to handle.

Admittedly, one of the few things providing him relief (besides their exchanged texts and calls) was still being able to track her location. Perhaps there was certainly only so much he could do from miles away if something went wrong, but knowing her whereabouts was much better than not. He would at least _know_ much sooner and in real time if she found trouble again. Lately though, Jess spent a lot of her time at home, and Damian didn't need her to tell him she'd actually gone to the rink or elsewhere since he already knew.

Other than no longer being able to physically be with her the way they used to, his life was not much different than it had been before. He continued to find solace in his own solitude and privacy, spending his nights in Gotham's streets, talking with Dick when the older man wanted to catch up. Jess's absence had prompted him to take certain things upon himself such as reorganizing the library once again, ordering new reading material, and even picking up artwork that had been sitting unfinished in storage.

"Why am I not surprised you happen to be good at art, too?" she'd asked, hazel eyes scanning one of his worn sketchbooks with undisguised fascination. "Seriously. Is there anything you're _not_ good at?"

As seemingly natural as it felt to fall back into what life had been before Jess, the differences between now and then were subtle and indistinct. They showed up in the fridge when he opened it as flavored creamers sitting on the shelf (thanks to Alfred) that she'd liked, in the way Damian would find himself almost reaching for a knife to cut the crusts from a sandwich because that was how she preferred her bread. He'd rediscovered a dedication to continue working on art pieces she'd said he should finish and thought about her when he happened to look out the window and see the sun setting. Neo was another constant reminder, his mere presence pulling mental images of Jess's grin into Damian's mind when he least expected it. He often mused to himself that she would likely find it funny when the cat stared wide-eyed at a screen, that she would be laughing at the way he climbed onto Damian's shoulders and sometimes his head when he was on his bed.

As far away as she was, his friend was still there in nearly everything the young man did. It was as if she was imprinted in everything around him… The last time another person had managed to do that had been Irene, yet things with her had ended so disastrously—

His phone began ringing, jolting him from thoughts that he hadn't realized he'd sunk deeply into as he sat at his desk. Jess's name appeared on the screen — _Tt_, what were the chances she would call while he'd been thinking of her? — and Damian saw that it was nearly three in the afternoon (when she should've been in class, he'd noted). His gaze narrowed while he had the phone to his ear in a split second.

"Jessica?"

"... Hi."

It was only one word but Damian could hear something in her soft voice, and it had him straightening up in alertness.

"What's wrong?" he asked, keeping his tone as nonchalant as possible.

There was an itch in him, a desire to check her location and see if she was still at school — or elsewhere, considering her characteristic foolishness to roam off on her own, especially at night. He wouldn't have put it past her to leave school grounds if she'd wanted to.

Silence followed for several moments. "Jessica."

"Actually, I, um... I'll c-call you back."

She was crying. He could hear how desperately she was attempting to hide it, yet the cracking in her vulnerable tone had given her away. His chest tightened while the image of her in tears flitted through his mind. Why would she call and then want to hang up?

"What—?"

"Five m-minutes. I'll... call you in five minutes."

Three-hundred seconds had never felt so long to him before. He'd made it to the computer in the cave from his room in about one minute, and it took another to pull up Jess's current, exact location: she was still at school, but more specifically in the northwestern most corner of the main building. A quick check of the school's map, and it appeared his friend was in a bathroom, possibly holed up in a stall in the middle of her fifth period class.

Damian could only imagine what she looked like, and he had an easy (and accurate, he knew) guess at why she was in the state she was in; his hand tightened at his side as he continued counting down the final minute before she was supposed to return his call.

Just over five minutes had passed, and she still hadn't called. He battled his impatience, telling himself he'd give her sixty more seconds before he'd call her again. About fifteen had passed when his phone vibrated.

He answered before the first ring was over. "Jessica."

"Hey," she said quietly with a sniffle. "Sorry about that…"

Breathing in and out deeply through his nose, Damian sat back in the chair with his gaze trained on the computer monitor. "Are you alright?"

Silence, then: "Not really."

"Are you at school?"

"Yeah. I went to the bathroom in the middle of class… Needed a moment to myself."

She wasn't lying, which was a good sign.

He said nothing, forcing himself to remain quiet in hopes she would open up about what had gotten her in such a state of dismay.

"I told myself I'd be able to make it through this first day," she was saying slowly then, "but it's… it's worse than I thought it'd be."

The way her voice was breaking again had him closing his eyes as he held the phone to his ear. Jess was sobbing again on the other end, and with every passing moment, Damian could feel a desire growing in him, one that made his body itch with yearning.

"It's s-so stupid… It feels like everyone is staring at me and talking behind my back. Even the teachers act like they're t-too scared to say my name or _look_ at me."

"There is nothing stupid about how you feel," he found himself saying albeit with a hint of hesitation.

Consolation was unfortunately something he had never been good at in spite of having learned a thing or two from Dick. As much as he knew he wanted to help her and take away the anxiety and despair clearly overtaking her, Damian nearly felt… helpless. It was a feeling he'd seldom experienced yet despised all the same because it meant he wasn't in control.

The indistinct sounds of labored breathing made him sit up in the chair, heart rate increasing. "Jessica," he began, a note of concern in his voice.

"Just… talk to me. Anything…" she was trying to tell him between what sounded like faint wheezes and sobs. "T-tell me... what you did... today. I need—I need to hear…"

At the sob that cut off her words, Damian quickly adopted a calm tone and proceeded to describe his day. As if they were having a normal conversation in his car or in the manor kitchen, he rattled off the errands he'd run and the lunch he'd spent with Bruce. Though a minuscule part of him was wondering what Jess looked like on the other end, he kept on, trusting that his voice would provide her the comfort and ease she'd seemingly asked for.

"Dick called me this morning. He and his family are doing well in New York and will likely visit for Thanksgiving unless Father insists we go there instead. He did ask about you again, and he's looking forward to meeting Neo…"

Finally, Damian concluded his mundane explanation, finding his words drifting off and followed by silence.

A minute passed, and he carefully, almost quietly, said, "I'm... here, Jessica."

Here but not there, where he should be.

"_There's this guy, a friend I made this summer. Um, long story short, I feel like he needs a little… 'looking after.'"_

_But what about you?_

As much as Jess's unusual request had touched him that night, Damian knew who truly was the one who needed looking after… Though he could hardly do even that despite his efforts and attempts to keep tabs on her. The closest he could be was through a phone, and it only made frustration nip at his nerves. He knew her address, her real-time location, everything about her aunt such as where she worked and even her spending habits. He could name Jess's high school's graduation rate as well as list her class schedule.

Yet the best he could do over a phone line was offer words he did not know how to say because they were often one of his greatest weaknesses. And if not words, what else? Silence?

If the situation were more ideal and the two of them were physically in each other's presence… he would hold her. Perhaps it was all he knew, all he'd learned in their time together and not much better than words, but it would work. He knew it would. She would still cry and be in pain, yet at least it would be in his arms the same way she'd held him when he had unknowingly needed it. Then he'd truly be "here."

He heard her take a deep breath, exhaling into the phone. "It's been a while since I've had one of these..."

Damian realized he was clenching his jaw; he attempted to relax, sitting up in the chair and looking down at the keyboard though his eyes didn't see it. In his mind's eye was how he imagined she looked right now, hazel irises rimmed with red as she scrambled to wipe away her tears. Her hair was probably unkempt, and if she hadn't been holding her phone, she'd be twisting that ring on her finger or snapping the hair tie on her wrist.

"I'll… I'll be okay though," she was saying then, though the slight shakiness in her voice offered little to no assurance. "I'll start therapy again and figure out how to… cope."

Before he could say anything, Jess added, "I don't really know why I asked you to tell me about your day... but it helped."

"You're certain you'll be okay?"

There was a brief pause before she answered, "I think so."

There was a thought lingering at the edge of his mind, begging to be asked, yet he found himself unable to voice it aloud no matter how much louder it grew. Instead, he listened to her telling him that she intended to get back to class.

"You'll text me later?"

"Yeah, I will. Or I'll call again if that's okay."

_Whenever._

"That sounds reasonable."

"Okay... Bye."

Minutes after they'd hung up, he was in his room again, mind clouded with haphazard thoughts and even more cluttered feelings. His phone buzzed with a text message notification, and seeing Jess's name had his heart jumping into his throat with anticipation.

_Thanks, Dami_, she'd written. _don't know what I'd do without you_

Though her excessive use of the blue heart emoji followed by corn emojis was silly and a bit childish, Damian could only roll his eyes then silently wish she'd seen it.

Damian: _Just call whenever you need me._

Jessica: _then i guess i'll be calling you ALL the time... jk :) send more Neo pictures plz_

Something about her joke stirred warmth in his chest as he immediately proceeded to send her the most recent photos he'd taken of the cat. He certainly couldn't explain why the recitation of his banal, everyday activities had apparently given her what she needed and in what way it curbed the panic attack... but he found he didn't care. As long as it eased the pain, it hardly mattered what he needed to do. If she asked him to read off the ingredients from the back of a cake mix box or explain why he found most romantic comedies overrated and unpredictable, he would.

He would do whatever she asked him to.

* * *

When she'd gone down to the dining room after Lora had called her for dinner, Jess had been in an awful mood. Though day three of school was over, all the negativity and anxiety that'd been eating at her was still alive, and she'd gone straight home to break down for the second time. Her eyes were slightly red and her cheeks were pink as she sat down at the dining table, hardly noticing the spaghetti waiting for her.

Lora's sharp gaze ran over the teen from the other end of the table. For a moment, she merely continued blowing on her forkful of spaghetti in silence as if unbothered by Jess's dismal appearance, but then she was speaking up.

"Well? How was your third day?"

"Just as amazing as the first and second." Jess didn't bother hiding the sarcasm as she stared down at her plate, not a bit hungry.

Her aunt let out a heavy sigh, fingers going up to rub her temple. "Jessica..."

"That's my name."

"How much longer are you going to be like this?"

The teen rubbed at her eye then shrugged. "Until a miracle happens or the day I die. Whichever comes first."

There was a sharp clatter as Lora dropped her fork onto her plate and sat back in her chair, steely eyes hardening. "I thought that your probation would have fixed that attitude, but it appears to have gotten worse. Why? What is there for you to be so bitter about?"

Hot annoyance seared through Jess's nerves, and she couldn't help snapping, "What _isn't_ there for me to be bitter about?"

"What on earth are you—?"

"You wanna know how school has been? It's been _three days_ and I've never been more miserable since Mom and Dad died," she said, attempting but barely succeeding at keeping her emotions controlled. "You know why? Because it's been two _years_ since I've seen any of these people, and all they did was _stare_ at me 'cause I'm the girl they knew that went missing.

"A guy even had the audacity to walk up to me and ask if I remembered him. I don't even fucking know why he did, but all I do know is that it made me feel horrible."

Was she supposed to have said no? And if she had, how would he have reacted?

Her voice was cracking now as it rose, and Jess was having trouble getting a hold of the desperation growing in her. Lora's eyes had widened at her outburst, but the teen couldn't care less. All she knew was that she was on the verge of tears, and talking about her experience at school was just unlocking the door for the rest of the worries and troubles that had been living in her head.

"I never wanted to come back here, you know. There's _nothing_ in this city for me. Mom and Dad aren't here, I have no friends, you and I are _complete strangers_..." Jess had to take a moment and inhale deeply, feeling a few warm tears escape the corners of her eyes. "But back at Gotham? Believe it or not, it... it started to feel like—like... It felt like—"

Home. It had felt like home.

She couldn't hold it in anymore. With a sob, Jess pushed herself away from the table and hurried back upstairs, almost tripping over her own feet because she couldn't see through the tears. Curled up on her bed, hugging a pillow, she cried again... again and again, as she had been since leaving Gotham—repeatedly, like the anxiety and misery that had been cycling through her head for weeks. Tears, feelings of desolation, constant questions and "What if?"... they were all she'd known for such a short amount of time yet they'd been so consuming and draining.

Would it really be any better a week from now? A month? Six months?

Her stomach lurched at the thought of enduring this pain and anguish for _months_...

With tears half-dried on her face, Jess waited until her breathing had slowed and felt around her bed for her phone. She took a moment to look at the wallpaper that was a photo of her and Damian with Neo in his lap: it was a quick selfie she'd managed to snap without him noticing, Jess grinning cheekily and her friend on the couch behind her and preoccupied with his new companion.

"_Just call whenever you need me,"_ was what he'd texted her the other night.

Her thumb hovered over the button with the phone icon, but before she could follow through with it, there was a knock on her bedroom door.

Mind jolted back to the present, Jess glanced at it but said nothing, aware of the negative emotions slithering back into her conscience.

"Jessica," her aunt's voice came through. "I'd like to speak with you."

Part of her wanted to tell her off, but another took notice of how unusually calm the woman sounded. Was it just her imagination or did she sound almost... kind?

_You're going nuts, Jess._

"I have something I want to show you."

Curiosity butted its head through her doubt, making Jess finally get up and open the door. Without meeting Lora's eyes, she immediately turned around and went to sit on her bed, hugging her pillow to her chest again. Lora seemed to tentatively enter then seat herself on the edge of the bed. That was when the teen noticed she was holding an envelope.

"This came in the mail a few days before you got back."

Lora's name was written neatly on the front of the opened envelope, but that wasn't what caught Jess's eye — Bruce Wayne's name and business address was printed as the sender.

Her heart seemed to beat painfully as she proceeded to pull the letter from the opened envelope, and she had a strong feeling just by the feel of the paper that she knew what it was. Still, it didn't make her reaction any less jolting as her eyes scanned what was a replica of the letter Damian had shown her weeks ago. It wasn't even a copy at that; it was printed organically with Bruce's real, penned signature and the seal at the top. Hell, it might have been the exact one she'd held and tossed at her friend in his car.

She couldn't even begin to comprehend exactly how this had been sent to Lora, if it'd been sent sometime before or after her heart-to-heart with Damian… All the teen could do was stare at it in nearly the same way she had the first time in the car with him. This whole time, she hadn't planned on telling her aunt about the offer, yet apparently Bruce had taken it upon himself to send it to the only family she had left.

"Did you know about this?" Lora asked, her eyes watching her carefully from her seated position on the bed.

To lie or not to lie?

After several moments, Jess cleared her throat and answered, "Yeah… I did."

"Well, I ended up speaking with him, and he—"

"You talked to Bruce?"

Lora raised a plucked brow. She must have picked up on Jess's casual use of the man's first name. "Yes, I spoke with 'Bruce'... Was quite difficult getting a hold of him, but I guess that's what happens when you're as well-known and rich as he is."

_What did he say?_

With a sigh, her aunt gestured towards the letter still in Jess's hands and continued, "He had nice things to say about you. Told me all about how you'd met and how hard you worked on your community service, job, all the responsibilities you had. Apparently, you impressed him enough to do something as generous as offer you a spot at Gotham Academy."

Her words echoed in Jess's head, guilt trickling into the teen's gut at the mention of working hard during her stay. If only Bruce had known how much she'd still messed up despite all her efforts to turn her life around… An image of Damian's frustrated, emerald gaze and the bag of stardust he'd held flashed behind her eyes, and she worked to shove it away, not wanting to be reminded of that road bump in their friendship.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up to me," Lora was saying, "but considering you've already started school, it seems like you weren't planning on it."

That was true. Jess had considered briefly mentioning the scholarship to her aunt, but a voice had been quick to remind her of their tumultuous relationship and the high likelihood that the woman would be averse to the idea. She'd just known her aunt wouldn't appreciate the mere possibility of Jess returning to Gotham and being away from her. Besides, the teen was still convinced she didn't deserve a penny of Wayne money, so there really wasn't any point at all in bringing up the grandiose gift.

Although, none of that meant she'd stopped thinking about it. In fact, it was something that sat in the back of her mind all day (and especially at night when she laid in bed), the idea that she could go back and continue her fresh start at life. No probation, no community service, no stardust… just a new school, new friends, new chance at living the way she was supposed to. It was a fantasy at this point and definitely didn't help how she felt about being in Central City. Her heart simply yearned to be in Gotham again, but her ego just couldn't accept the only ticket she had to get there.

Jess didn't really know how else to respond to her aunt besides telling her the truth. She was too exhausted to try and consider half-truths and lies — none of that would change this reality of staying in her hometown.

"I didn't think I deserved it," she muttered with a shrug. "And I knew you'd say no anyway."

Lora regarded her with eyes that were difficult to decipher, which was a bit strange considering she was usually expressive and easy to read. "You're right that I would say no…"

_Hmph_, Jess thought.

"... But that doesn't mean I can't change my mind."

Brows knitting together in confusion, she met the woman's gaze but couldn't speak. What was she saying?

Lora took a deep breath and looked away, appearing deep in thought for a long moment. Then she readjusted her position on the bed, turning herself to face Jess, who was watching her curiously. "I know it didn't seem like it, but Ian and I were close," she began.

At the mention of her father's name, Jess's heart thumped painfully in her chest.

"We talked often to make up for the fact that we hardly had the chance to see each other. That's why I never got to actually see you in person, to watch you grow up… so I don't blame you for feeling like you don't know me," Lora told her, splitting a gaze between her niece and a random spot on the comforter.

"But I know _you_, Jessica, to a certain extent. Despite not getting to see you much, I learned things from your father — he always told me about what was going on with you, updated me when it came to your competitions and hockey games. He'd send me those shaky videos he recorded or tell me how you were doing in school.

"I had convinced myself I wouldn't tell you about this, but... a few days prior to the… accident… he said they weren't keen on letting you travel out of state for that hockey game. He wanted to say yes, but he simply didn't feel comfortable with you being away for even a few days. Your mother felt the same way. And they knew it would upset you, Jessica, but I know it was only because they were being parents; they'd never been apart from you like that before.

"I suppose what I'm trying to say here is that… you and I may not feel like family, but I did get to know you through my brother. And what I learned most of all is that despite all of that, he—he loved you."

Her voice had begun wavering as she finished, reaching up to dab at the inner corners of her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling as if trying to keep the tears from escaping.

Jess, on the other hand, wasn't bothering to remain composed. Her face was shiny with her own tears that streamed relentlessly as she stared unseeingly at the comforter, arms still wrapped around the pillow. Reaching up to wipe under her eyes, she sniffled and couldn't help reliving that stupid argument in the car on the day that haunted her memories and dreams. Neither of her parents had ever really explained why they didn't want her to go with the team to that game, but hearing this from her aunt felt like someone was wrenching open a wound she'd thought had healed for the most part. It was one thing to learn that her father had talked about her to Lora all these years — it was another to be told that her parents had simply been worried about being separated from her for a game.

"_And what I learned most of all is that despite all of that, he—he loved you."_

A familiar ache was rising in her chest, one that she'd known for too long after that fateful day. Guilt followed closely behind, reminding her that she'd always wondered if it was her fault for the argument and, ultimately, the accident.

"Jessica."

She couldn't bring herself to meet her aunt's gaze; instead, Jess sat there unmoving, allowing the tears to continue and too afraid to make a move for fear of completely breaking down.

"Since that day, I… I've never known what I'm supposed to do to take care of you." Hesitation tinted Lora's voice, something Jess had never heard from her before. "I was so angry that my brother and sister-in-law were gone, and perhaps that's why I couldn't figure out how to pick up where they left off."

Jess was shutting her eyes now, trying her hardest to contain the pain blossoming from deep within her chest. She didn't know where Lora was going with this, but she couldn't even bring herself to tell her to stop if she tried.

There was a heavy sigh, then the woman's next words had Jess opening her eyes: "I don't think you are the only one who wants another chance."

She'd seen a variety of emotions from her aunt, most of which were usually negative in some way — irritation, frustration, disappointment. She'd seen her pinch the bridge of her nose a thousand times when Jess was "too quiet" in the months following the accident, heave big sighs when Jess gave her attitude. All she'd ever known from the woman was that Jess was a burden, another responsibility she'd never asked for or wanted… a reminder of her brother's death.

So when Jess heard what sounded like a sliver of hopefulness in her voice, a hint of something different from what she'd always known, she met Lora's eyes. The gray irises were filled with gentleness, seemingly speaking to her and asking something she would never have seen coming.

_Will you give me another chance?_

* * *

**Note: **hey guys, bit of a weird chapter but i wanted to showcase how going back to Central City negatively affected Jess (but also positively if we're talking about her aunt there towards the end? :O who knew she could experience emotions? lol) so it probably felt a little slow but we'll pick things up next update:)

thanks for all the love! i have lots of stuff planned, more dramatic things to stir the pot. and without giving too many specifics, let's just say Jason may or may not have a hand in some of the upcoming chaos xD OH and there's another canon character i'm trying to weave in as well, i'm just trying to figure out where her appearance would make the most sense.

anyway, i appreciate the reads and reviews and for you sticking through this wild journey with me and Jess. she's got a bit more growing to do, so all i can do at this point as her creator is stand on the sidelines and yell at her. maybe she'll listen eventually ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	30. Homecoming

**Chapter 30: Homecoming**

It wasn't very often that his family would go on public outings, but when they did, dinner was usually a go-to choice. Bruce had suggested the other day that he, Damian, Selina, and Alfred spend an evening at the high-end restaurant they'd visited a handful of times (the same one Jess had worked at during the summer), something they had not done in a few months.

Five minutes before their reservation, the four of them stepped through the restaurant's double doors. Damian, dressed crisply in all black with an open blazer thrown over a turtleneck, trailed after his father to the young woman greeting them. He was vaguely aware of her exchanging words with Bruce as he took in the familiar golden albeit dim lighting and soft elevator music, but more obvious were the stares of recognition following them as they were led to the circular table in the far corner of the establishment. Some guests were much more inconspicuous when it came to watching the two Waynes pass through, and although it was something that happened frequently, Damian somehow found it particularly bothersome this time around. There were a few faces he recognized from past galas or other events that had required the presence of Gotham's elite and socialites — one was a businessman that Bruce had nodded towards and another woman was from the mayor's office. The servers that bustled to and fro were distinguishable by their white button-ups and black aprons, and one of them approached their table as soon as they were seated.

That was when Damian noticed that Alfred had sat on his left yet there was another chair, an empty, fifth one, to his right. Raising a brow, he glanced at his father, who was speaking with the middle-aged waiter that was listening intently to what he was saying.

As soon as he left to fetch the wine bottle Bruce had requested, the younger Wayne tilted his head toward the empty seat. "Are we expecting someone else?"

Blue eyes landed on him innocently as his father reached to adjust his tie. "Oh, yes. We have Weston Hess joining us tonight. It seems he's running a bit late though."

"I wasn't aware."

"It was last minute," Bruce explained with a small smile. "I changed the reservation this morning."

Hmph. Why on earth would Weston Hess, a mere member of the private sector, be joining them for dinner? Damian's gaze darted to Alfred and then Selina, but they were both occupied with the thick menus before them. Bruce seemed to have quickly forgotten about Damian's curiosity, leaning over to ask his fiancée what she was considering. It wasn't that the young man had any particular issue with having another guest join them — though there had certainly been times when he'd preferred that only family was involved — rather, it was the intriguing fact that his father had failed to mention it.

That and Damian was not a fan of Weston. He was, unfortunately, annoying with an unlikeable personality.

Deciding to overlook this new discovery, he picked up his menu though he had a fairly good idea what he'd order. He'd always been a fan of the mushroom risotto, though part of him was craving something lighter… Several minutes of consideration and light conversation with Alfred later, Damian checked his watch and saw that it was nearly fifteen past six. As if Weston wasn't already irritating — he was clearly not punctual either.

Before he could bring it up to his father, Bruce reached into his pocket and retrieved his vibrating phone. "This is Bruce," he answered. After a moment, he continued with a light smile, "That's alright. I'll send Damian out to get you…"

At that, Damian was giving him a look that said "Really, Father?" but the older Wayne only seemed to be amused by his son's expression.

"No, that's fine. He'll be out in a minute… Okay. See you soon."

Bruce ended the call as annoyed, green eyes glared at him from across the table. "You're sending me to fetch a grown man for what exactly?"

From where she sat, Selina seemed to be biting back a smile, her distracted gaze trained on the glass of wine she was reaching for. It only confused Damian more, in turn fueling his irritation.

He continued briskly, "So not only is Hess clearly inconsiderate of our time, but he is also too incompetent to use his own legs to walk through the doors and his own eyes to look for—"

"Damian," Bruce interrupted, eyes glinting with something unreadable in the restaurant's soft lighting. "Please. Just meet him outside."

Jaw set tightly, Damian held his father's gaze until he let out a huff and stood from the table. Part of him had wanted to pursue the argument, but he'd quickly come to the conclusion that it was one not worth having. Besides, he had a feeling that, although his feelings towards his father's colleague were justified in every sense, he was sure that his growing hunger had something to do with his irritability.

Pulling at the lapels of his blazer and once again ignoring the eyes following him, Damian headed towards the front of the restaurant. He briefly took notice of the young woman who'd taken them to their table; she was organizing menus at the podium, but as soon as he'd approached, her inquisitive eyes ran over him and she straightened up a little, tossing him a smile. Though she was certainly pretty and most likely his age, he had no room in his current capacity to even consider being interested.

Chilly air greeted his face and hands, reminding him that Gotham's windy and cold autumn was fast approaching. In another month or so, the leaves would be turning brown and falling from the trees… then snow. (He was not prepared for snow.) Stopping at the sidewalk, he crossed his arms and remained there, eyes scanning the street and the parking lot nearby for a familiar man who was a handful of years older than him. If he recalled correctly, Weston had gotten his foot in the door for his career at the young age of nineteen (though it would take much more than that to impress Damian), and now he was in his mid-twenties, mingling with businesspeople as high-profile as his father.

Though he was a bit caught up in his thoughts, Damian felt the sudden presence behind him.

"Excuse me," a female voice spoke up.

Realizing it wasn't Weston, he gave a sigh and stayed where he was. It must've been the young woman from inside the restaurant, and he had no desire to entertain her at the moment. He was just about to look back and politely decline her if she made any sort of approach when he heard:

"I'm looking for Damian Wayne."

His heart leapt into his throat then. That voice… the way she'd said his name.

Turning around, Damian found himself looking right into a pair of hazel eyes he hadn't seen in what had felt like years. They were bright and familiar in the outdoor lighting. She was trying not to smile but was failing miserably as she continued on, "He's got dark hair, green eyes…" She held her hand up above her head, palm facing down. "About this tall. Looks older than he really is."

He could barely think through the shock flooding him, in almost complete disbelief at what he was seeing. Jess was still attempting to control the knowing grin she wore while she took in his speechless state; it was as if she was finding it so amusing that he hadn't yet said a word. Stepping closer, his friend tilted her head thoughtfully as her gaze ran over his face.

"He kinda looks just like you, except…" Her fingers reached up to draw an imaginary circle at the skin between her own brows. "He's usually got these wrinkles here, you know, from glaring or thinking too much."

Jess was continuing to stand there, smiling at him with her shining, hazel irises. Acting on a sudden urge in him — and still at a loss for words — Damian closed the distance between them and took her in his arms.

The initial surprise was already being washed away by everything he remembered about her... from the calming scent of musky lavender to the warm, comforting way it felt to embrace her. Though it had only been weeks since they'd last been together, her sudden appearance was oddly overwhelming as if it'd been much longer. There was something about the way her arms were wrapped around his body, containing the swelling in his heart and chest, and for a split second, he hoped she wouldn't let go. He wasn't sure how long they stood there, but when they finally broke apart, Damian stepped back to appraise her.

Jess was wearing a slim, sweater dress in a forest green color — it also happened to have a turtleneck, Damian noticed with amusement — and her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Knee-high, heeled boots gave her a few inches in height; it was odd seeing her eyes nearly up to his own. This was the most dressed-up he'd ever seen her, and it only added to the astonishment he was still, admittedly, reeling from.

"Surprise," she said with a grin, giving him cringey jazz hands.

"What… What are you doing here?" he managed to ask.

Millions of questions spun in his mind as he struggled to come to a conclusion that made any bit of sense. How was Jessica Fairchild suddenly standing before him when he'd just been on a video call with her the night before and seen her bedroom back in Central City?

His friend shrugged and adjusted the small purse she wore across her body. "It's kind of a long story," she responded, still smiling. "I'll tell you all about it inside?"

Realization dawned on him then, making Damian almost roll his eyes at his own obliviousness. Weston Hess was not their guest for the night, that much as clear now. But he surely wasn't complaining… He much preferred it this way.

Hazel eyes waited excitedly for a response. He let out a deep breath, feeling the corner of his mouth quirking up as a result of the warmth and high spirits filling him. "You certainly have explaining to do," he told her in his signature sharp tone with a raised brow.

"Oh, I know."

The young woman was still at the front as they entered, and Damian hardly caught the attentive look she gave him and Jess. All he was doing even while he watched her greet Bruce and Alfred with a hug and introduce herself to Selina was attempting to put clues together in his head and determine how this entire situation was happening.

Yet he made an attempt at patience as his father asked Jess, who'd taken up the fifth seat beside Damian, about her flight and the waiter asked her what she wanted to drink. Damian could feel eyes on him — he glanced up to see calm, blue irises watching from across the table, and that was when a suspicion rose in him. Unable to refrain from voicing his curiosity, he spoke up.

"You had something to do with this, didn't you?" he asked Bruce, who smiled and nodded towards Jess.

"I'll let Jess explain everything."

Jess's cheeks were turning pink as she laughed sheepishly and turned to Damian with a shrug. "Uh, well, for starters… I'm not visiting."

She paused as if to let her words sink in, and they did. The wrinkles between Damian's brows softened with understanding — for the briefest of moments, he was nearly as stunned as he'd been outside again.

"I'm here to stay."

Her statement lodged into a place somewhere deep in his chest, releasing an onslaught of warmth and joy he wasn't sure he had experienced in a long time. _You're here to stay. _At first, Damian wasn't quite sure how to process this news, but then he felt the smallest of grins growing on his face, and even though he could feel the other three watching him, he couldn't care less about the expression.

The astonishment slowly wore off as his friend proceeded to explain herself, telling him how Lora had received the letter regarding the scholarship. (He couldn't recall having sent that… so perhaps that had been Bruce's doing?) Her aunt had approached her, initiated an unexpected heart-to-heart that resulted in the woman telling Jess she wanted to "make things right" and help her start anew — and most importantly, in the way she wanted. That had meant allowing her to return to Gotham and accept the scholarship, yet Jess had wanted to include surprising Damian and Misty, so she had reached out to Bruce and asked for his assistance. He'd arranged the dinner to happen her first night back in the city after dropping her things off in her new dorm on the academy's campus.

"We initially planned for tomorrow, but I told him I didn't want to wait that long," she laughed, exchanging grins with Bruce. "So I really appreciate you working with my impatience."

"This was quite an exciting surprise to plan with you, Jess," Bruce responded kindly. "Damian hasn't always been keen on surprises, but I'd say we did fairly well."

Jess's gaze flickered to the younger Wayne, lit with amusement. "I think so, too. We got you pretty good, didn't we?"

Despite the knowing, playful grin she tossed him, Damian found himself reaching up to casually tug at his blazer lapels again as if he was unbothered. "Of course I wasn't expecting you to be our dinner guest tonight," he replied dismissively while he reached to take a sip from his glass of water. "So naturally, I was… taken aback."

"Pretty sure that's his way of saying you did get him good." Selina winked at Jess, making the girl laugh and turn back to look at him.

"It's okay to admit you were — and still are — surprised, Dami. I myself am still processing the fact that I'm back… I mean, it hasn't been twenty-four hours yet anyway. But I'm here thanks to you and your dad."

Apparently, her aunt was one to thank as well. Jess hadn't told him about this discussion she'd supposedly had with her, yet then again, she clearly hadn't mentioned several important things that had happened recently. Even in her explanation, Damian could tell she had left out certain details, ones he presumed she didn't want to speak about in front of his family. She still wasn't aware that they already knew much about her — he guessed Bruce had filled Selina in on a few things — and he was sure there were parts of her exchange with Lora that she would rather disclose to him in private.

And she did. Jess accompanied them back to the manor after dinner, where she eagerly greeted Neo and sought to bond with him in the theater room where they'd put on one of the latest action movies. It was then that she dove into greater detail as she sat beneath a blanket, boots on the floor and their furry companion in her lap.

"It was really weird, honestly, feeling like she was actually listening to me and wanting to know what I had to say," she'd explained. "So imagine my complete shock when she said she was willing to let me come back here for my senior year."

Yet her return was not without conditions. Lora had expressed that it would perhaps be a good idea for Jess to seek therapy again like she had before, a concept the teen was not opposed to. Jess was also going to work and pay back the fine that had saved her from an extended probation. (She didn't want to argue against that either, but she certainly did gripe about it being her fault it had to be done at all). Overall, she merely needed to do well, be on good behavior, and not make her aunt regret her decision, something Jess expressed she believed she could do.

"Just hearing her agree to do all this was a huge weight off my shoulders," Jess had explained as she scratched behind Neo's ears and barely paid attention to the car chase scene happening before them. "It felt like a huge chunk of my anxiety and all this bad stuff I was feeling started disappearing… but I-I know I still have some of that that I need to work on. And I'm hoping therapy will help, you know?"

But was it simply her emotional troubles taking a toll on her?

He hadn't noticed it until sometime after his shock had worn off, but Damian had taken a few moments to examine her face and seen that the few weeks in Central City had affected her. Beneath the mascara, lip gloss and other bits of makeup she'd worn for the night, he could see how exhausted she looked with dark circles and tired eyes. He'd already known she hadn't been sleeping well upon returning to her hometown, especially after the several video calls they'd had, but seeing the physical signs up close was entirely different.

Though she had never explicitly said it, Damian had always suspected she'd been experiencing withdrawals from stardust. Many of her issues were common symptoms of drug withdrawals in general, and he was sure her anxiety and unhappiness only made them worse. Besides her tendency to get herself into trouble and make poor choices, he'd worried most about her physical and mental health. If she and Lora hadn't managed to see eye-to-eye and start a clean slate, how long would Jess have been able to go about her life until it became too much? And would he have been able to do anything about it?

"You know what's the best part about being back?"

Damian glanced at her, seeing that her gaze was still trained on the large screen as she continued speaking.

"Compared to this summer, I actually get to be here because I want to," she mused aloud. "I'm not here on probation, I don't have community service… I actually get to have a _real_, second chance after all that. I get to experience… a new and different life, you know?"

Her hazel eyes met his, widened with excitement that also had her lips growing into a faint smile. Before Damian could even try and respond, something suddenly occurred to his friend, further igniting the enthusiasm written across her face as she let out a small gasp.

"Ooh, we should go on a late night drive sometime. I've always wanted to do that, especially here. Gotham is... just really pretty at night — aside from the bad stuff that happens, obviously," she waved a hand dismissively, "but it's not like there's a curfew to hold me back. And other than school and working and therapy, we'll get to hang out more.

"Out of everything, I think that's what I'm most excited about: getting to be with you guys. Does that make sense?"

The entire time she'd been rambling, Damian had watched the way her entire demeanor lit up, excitement and something else making her eyes sparkle in a way he'd never really seen in such magnitude before. That glistening gaze held him as Jess awaited his response, silence weighing down after her chipper voice stopped filling the air between them.

A moment longer and he knew she would have wondered if he'd been listening.

"It makes sense," he managed to reply smoothly.

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. "I mean, I've only been here for barely a day, but I already feel so much more freedom, and—"

She cut off as if realizing something, appearing to zone out while the smile faded from her face. But then Jess was shrugging and finishing nonchalantly, "Like I can actually be happy here, I think."

Happiness. That was what he'd seen a hint of just moments ago while talking about the things she was free to do without all the responsibilities she'd once had. It had brightened her eyes and even seemed to lift weight from her shoulders as she'd straightened up in enthusiasm, capturing Damian's attention and — dare he say it — catching him off-guard.

This still lingered in his mind some time later when the movie was nearing its end, though the young man found he wasn't paying nearly as much attention as he had been before. Once he realized Jess hadn't said anything in a while, he looked over to find her head had fallen to the side and onto the back of the chair. Her eyes were closed, lips parted slightly while her shoulders rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Neo seemed to have fallen asleep as well, his large eyes shut as he lay curled up beneath her still fingers. While Damian briefly considered waking her, he decided he couldn't bring himself to disturb her. Besides, as she'd said, she didn't have somewhere else to be because of a curfew; they'd also already planned on spending the next day together before the semester began the following day, so it would be alright if she spent the night.

And he'd rather have her across the hall than across the city.

So Damian shut off the movie and went to carefully slip his arms underneath her figure — he'd learned by now that she was a relatively heavy sleeper, so he wasn't concerned about waking her — to take her to the guest room that was essentially hers at this point. Unlike the few other times he'd seen her asleep, simply knocked out by alcohol and stardust, Jess appeared peaceful then as she slept unmoving in the bed… more peaceful than he must have ever seen her. After years of poor choices and suffering, perhaps she truly did feel more freedom and like she had another chance, and it was already showing in something as ordinary as sleep.

Closing the bedroom door behind him and heading back to his own room, Damian knew he felt different now that she'd returned albeit so unexpectedly. Though he had been doing okay as he'd always been, knowing his friend was just down the hall and in Gotham again was making him feel in ways he had not expected to. He was, in the simplest way to describe it, glad to have Jess back.

_I hope you will be happy here, too._

* * *

"She's gone back to her dorm already?"

Bruce had glanced up from the computer in the cave upon hearing footsteps. Damian was still dressed in his dinner attire but without the blazer, a distracted sort of look in his eyes as he strayed towards the display cases where his suit hung. The older Wayne watched as the young man stared at the gear, his shoulders rising and falling with a steady, deep breath. His dark locks, usually kept neatly cropped, had grown out a little over the last several weeks, gracing his forehead and nearly reaching his arched brows. As always, Bruce felt like he was watching his son grow up right before his eyes despite still seeing that same haughty ten-year-old in the way he carried himself.

Yet at the same time, he'd noticed the changes as well, the shifts in Damian's demeanor and the way he cared for those he loved dearly. He'd watched the teen's growth — _He's not a teenager anymore_, he had to remind himself — and how that maturity he'd always walked around with as a child now suited him at this age. His youngest was opening back up, something Bruce had noticed over the last several months, and exhibiting signs of… happiness… that he hadn't known in a long time.

"She's asleep in the guest room," was all Damian said, continuing to stand there and stare unseeingly at the Robin suit. The look on his face was almost thoughtful, prompting Bruce's curiosity.

"How do you feel about her being back?"

Emerald greens glanced briefly at him before returning to the display case. "You already know the answer to that."

"Not really," Bruce responded, spinning in his chair to face him. "In fact, I was concerned that doing this behind your back and without your knowledge would upset you."

"But that's what I did with her scholarship, isn't it?"

"This wasn't me returning the favor, if that's what you're implying." He paused with hesitation, then added, "I did it for her… but to me, that meant doing it for you, too."

Only the faint sounds of the computer whirring filled the air as neither of them spoke for several long moments. Bruce wasn't sure what else to say and he could only guess the same could be said about his son, whose gaze was still trained on his suit. But then Damian was turning towards him and crossing his arms, gaze shifting as he met his father's eyes.

"You knew I was tracking her phone and diverted the system," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "That's why I didn't know she was on a plane this morning. And you sent that second copy of the letter to Lora Fairchild, didn't you?"

Bruce said nothing, knowing his silence would serve as his answer. Yes, he had done all of things, and it made complete sense that his son had figured it out by mere guesses, not having to actually sit down and find the hard evidence. The twenty-year-old knew him well.

Brows furrowing in thought, Damian continued, "Why didn't you inform me that Weston Hess was joining us the first time you suggested dinner the other day? You had to have assumed I'd be suspicious of you mentioning it last minute."

"I did… but I also assumed you would refuse to attend dinner if you were told he was coming ahead of time."

And that was certainly something Damian would have done since Bruce was not totally oblivious to his noticeable dislike towards the young businessman.

"You couldn't have chosen one of your more… likeable... contacts as cover?"

"Name one of my business partners or colleagues you would have been happier to see tonight instead of Weston Hess," the older Wayne replied smoothly with a quirked brow.

Damian seemed to nod his head once as if saying "Touché." Understanding filled his son's eyes, similar to the way he came to conclusions while working on a case or thinking critically about something. Bruce could practically see the gears grinding away in the young man's brain — it had always been intriguing to watch how he treated even the most everyday moments in life with such a logical, analytical approach.

Again, like father, like son.

Damian tore his gaze away to look at nothing in particular across the cave. "I must say it's rather amusing having my friend and my father plotting behind my back to surprise me… not once but twice in a row."

Unable to refrain from a small chuckle, the older man replied, "She was excited both times, though I would say she was especially looking forward to coming here and seeing the look on your face."

Another thought crossed his mind then. "She wants to make you proud, Damian." He watched as something flickered across his son's features, though his face remained unreadable across the cave.

"I won't make you regret doing all of this for me," Jess had told him over the phone days ago. "I, um, don't want to let you and Damian down…"

And then he'd reassured her that he believed she wouldn't. It hadn't been a lie; Bruce was confident she would make the best of her second chance as he had been all along (as early as before Damian had decided she was nothing like he'd assumed in the beginning). He had "faith," something Alfred had, more than once, told him he needed to consider more often.

"I just want her to be happy."

The way Damian had spoken those words sounded like he was disagreeing with Bruce's earlier sentiment, as if Jess's happiness superseded making him proud.

Raising a brow, Bruce offered, "I don't think those two are mutually exclusive."

If anything, he was sure that Damian's admiration and commendation for her successes would make her happy in turn.

"Perhaps," was all the younger Wayne said, and then he was moving back towards the entrance into the manor, indicating a close to the conversation.

"Good night, Damian," Bruce told him, eyes trained on his retreating back.

Damian paused, turning his head to the side though he did not look back at him. "Good night, Father," he returned before closing the door behind him.

* * *

She couldn't recall the last time she had felt like this.

It was amazing how drastically her feelings had changed in a matter of weeks. From finding a potential home in Gotham to being miserable back in Central City… and back to Gotham again where she was overwhelmed with relief and an odd sense of homecoming. Had anyone told her she'd ride this rollercoaster at the beginning of the summer, Jess would've been nothing but skeptical. Wanting to remain in the very city she'd committed crimes and actively let out the worst parts of herself? Juvenile Jess definitely would've wondered what possibly could've happened to make her feel that way.

But Present Jess had a pretty good idea what it was that had changed — or rather, _who_ had helped her see things differently than she had before.

Her first few days back in Gotham had been nothing short of exciting. Surprising Damian had been an adventure in itself, and she'd wished she would remember the expression on his face forever. (Part of her hadn't been sure the entire thing would be successful, but it was a good thing Bruce had been able to help her out and do what he'd said he could to make sure his son was completely oblivious to the plan.) Showing up unannounced to Misty's had been fun, too, especially when her friend had just stood there, eyes bugged, and said "No way" several times before resuming normal function and giving her a bear hug. The three of them had spent the entire weekend together, checking out Jess's small but cozy dorm room on Gotham Academy's campus, going out into the city to grab food, and simply celebrating what felt like an unforeseen blessing.

Jess also hadn't been able to help looking forward to seeing another familiar face. Admittedly, she'd wondered if her return would change anything between her and Kade, especially considering the way they'd left things; the fling had been a casual, _temporary_ thing, and they'd both clearly known that. So now that she was back, an outcome neither of them had seen coming, what did that mean?

It wasn't like her feelings had come and gone. When she'd seen him on the first day of the semester, Misty having helped by pulling him from his group of friends to the end of the hallway Jess had been waiting in, the familiar flutters in her chest had risen upon seeing his cool, gray-blue eyes. And then realization had crossed his face, followed by that lopsided grin, and he'd swept her up in a hug that took her feet off the ground. The next thing he'd done was bombard her with questions in the same way Misty had, asking Jess how and why she was back.

She'd explained things as simply as saying her aunt had let her apply to the academy, leaving out any of the more complicated details that only Misty and Damian knew. It wasn't until the next weekend when Kade held a back-to-school party, his parents out of town like they always were, that Jess stumbled upon the desire to reconnect with him… and open up to him about things she'd kept to herself over the summer.

Maybe it was the excitement from being back, the yearning to pursue something different with him, newfound confidence in having another chance at a better life — maybe it was all of it, but Jess couldn't shake the feeling that she wanted _more_. She wanted to live the way she was supposed to, to experience things when all she'd done the past two years was miss out on them.

She and Misty sat on one of the couches, her friend engaged in a deep conversation with another girl about some new tv show that had recently been released. The house vibrated with the music's bass, and its interior was flashing with colorful lights, packed with teenagers from the kitchen to the living room. It was probably close to eleven in the evening — and Jess had been constantly reminding herself that she didn't need to return to the facility, that there wasn't some curfew she was breaking (something she was going to have to get used to). That and she'd been scanning surfaces littered with plastic cups to make sure there wasn't a familiar, sparkly dust that would catch her attention.

Because if there was even a single thing that she'd dreaded when it came to returning to Gotham, it was stardust.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, shifting her attention away from the cup she'd been drinking from (soda this time).

_Come to my room :)_

Heart jumping into her throat, Jess looked up, and her gaze immediately latched onto Kade, who was saying something to his friend before crossing the living room. He weaved through a group of bodies — his cool eyes met hers briefly, flashing with something that had her gut stirring — before making it to the hallway leading to his bedroom. She glanced at Misty, who was still chattering away, and leaned over to shout over the music that she'd be back. Her friend nodded, so Jess got up and headed down the hall, eyes bouncing around to make sure no one was paying attention to her.

The door was closed when she approached it. Steeling her nerves, the brunette knocked — though it was pretty much pointless considering the party's ruckus — and then turned the knob. She barely caught his face appearing as the door opened when a hand wrapped around her forearm, pulling her in. He closed it as soon as she was in the room, and the next thing Jess knew, he was kissing her. Her back found the wall just as his arm snuck around her waist, his other hand at her neck.

The initial surprise surging through her was quickly washed away by sparks of excitement. She was vaguely aware of the distant music thumping and shouts of laughter, but they seemed miles away when all she could focus on was the familiar tingles he'd given her and how it felt to have his lips on hers again. Like last time they'd seen each other, the two of them were shirtless not even minutes later, and Jess soon found herself laying back on his bed with Kade hovering above her.

He broke their kiss momentarily, eyes meeting hers, and giving her the moment she needed to really consider what was happening. Though she wasn't sure if this was heading down the same road they'd traveled before, what Jess did know was that, if that was the case, it would be different. Back then, her mind and body had been fueled by stardust, which had undoubtedly influenced her experience. But in this moment, she realized she wasn't averse to doing it all over again… even if the drug wasn't in her system this time around. Because, drug or not, there was just something about feeling like she was the only thing, the only person, in existence with him: it was like she was all he saw under that cool gaze, all he felt in his hands, all he wanted even after all this time.

And it felt good to be wanted.

"Hope you don't find this offensive, but I actually missed you," he told her, a smug grin on his face that was inches from hers.

"The feeling is mutual," she returned with a nonchalant shrug. Her cheeks were warming at all the physical contact and the way he was looking at her.

Jess was then silent for a long moment, the two of them simply staring at one another. Suddenly, without thinking, she told him, "I was just thinking that we could be something more than what we were this summer."

He raised his brows, making her stomach churn uncomfortably. Why'd she have to say that?

_Way to go, Jess. He's probably going to say he doesn't even want the same thing._

But then Kade's gray-blue irises were running over her face as he reached up to gently pinch her cheek in his fingers. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin as he responded, "I like the sound of that."

Though his response had her heart thumping hard in her chest, Jess found herself adding, "And I… I want to know you. More than I already do."

_And for you to know me._

If things worked out the way she was hoping in that moment, maybe he'd see her the way Misty and Damian did. If she allowed herself to be vulnerable with one more person, maybe he'd look past her mistakes. She could wish for that, couldn't she?

Kade was quiet, his eyes, normally icy and easygoing, seemed to soften as he mulled over her words. "Honestly, I'm really glad to hear that," he then said, "because I want to know everything about you."

She felt her own face break into a smile. "You pull that from a rom-com or something?" Jess managed to joke though her nerves were surging with a sudden thrill.

"Maybe. Did it work?"

To answer him, Jess took his face in both of her hands and kissed him. And just like that, it felt as though something else was falling into place upon her return to Gotham, making her wonder if the universe was actually being good to her for once.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd know what it was like to be happy again.

* * *

She couldn't sleep. Her mind was going a hundred miles per hour, replaying the last several days, every moment that had her doubting that all of this was happening. Lora trying to mend things with her and help her get back on the right track? Coming back here to Gotham, to be with her friends, to start anew like she'd always wanted? Finding comfort and joy in people who she'd actually grown to trust?

Her heart was swimming in what had to be happiness and excitement. Despite the last several weeks' worth of withdrawals, anxiety, and misery, things had started to feel different once Lora had told her she was willing to let Jess attend the academy. And being able to plan everything without her friends' knowledge, to surprise them (especially Damian) had just made everything that much better. All she'd looked forward to had been finishing her senior year in Gotham and being with people who made her feel… _better_. Of course she was laying there in bed, unable to fall asleep. She felt, for once, like she could _breathe_.

Signing, Jess reached for her phone and checked the time. It was past ten — something prompted her to text Damian and ask if he was awake.

Damian: _Yes. Why?_

Jess: _just curious. i can't sleep_

Damian: _Why not?_

Jess: _i don't know. thinking about how things have worked out so well lately. it's kind of crazy. doesn't feel real in a way_

Several minutes passed without another response, so Jess assumed he'd fallen asleep. She found herself scrolling through social media, hoping it would help her do the same. Her eyelids were growing heavy after a while, but as soon as she closed them for a moment, her phone vibrated.

Damian: _Still awake?_

Jess: _kind of. i thought you fell asleep already_

Damian: _Not yet._

Damian: _Come outside to the parking lot behind your dorm._

Jess: _what? why? are you here?_

Damian: _Instead of asking all those questions, you can do as I say and you'll get your answers._

Jess: _i don't need that attitude at this time of night_

Damian: _Bring a coat. It's raining._

Muttering under her breath, the brunette tossed away her covers and turned on the bedside lamp. She squinted at the sudden light and threw on a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and a light rain jacket before quietly exiting the dorm room. After locking it and heading downstairs, Jess pushed open the doors to a heavy downpour that would've instantly soaked her if it weren't for her coat. _Good call, Dami_. Her eyes strained to see through the darkness and sheet of rain before her — a pair of headlights approached until a familiar Aston Martin pulled up at the sidewalk. As quickly as possible, she headed towards the door and got in, her shoes already half-soaked.

Darkened green eyes were on Jess as she pulled back her hood, wet strands of hair clinging to her forehead, and glanced at him. Damian, compared to her, was completely dry (perks of having a garage, she supposed) and dressed in a gray sweater underneath a long raincoat.

"What are we doing?" she asked curiously while reaching for her seatbelt.

"What you said you've always wanted to do."

At first, she didn't quite understand, staring at him in confusion as he proceeded to drive, his gaze on the road ahead of them. But then she recalled what she'd told him earlier in the week, and once she grasped the situation, she found herself biting back a smile while sitting back in the seat.

Jess turned towards the window, taking in the nighttime view. Her eyes first took in the rain splattering against the glass but once they were further into Gotham, they were then gazing at the city lights rising hundreds of feet around them. The sky was a pitch black background, allowing the night life to remain vibrant and colorful. Neither of them spoke for a while; the radio was turned off, and the only sounds were the windshield wipers and splashes of water as Damian drove on through the rain.

To where, Jess didn't know, and in those moments, she didn't care either.

Their drive weaved through the city's winding streets and on its outskirts, allowing her to see parts of her new home she hadn't quite gotten to during the summer. There was the sporting dome complex, the concert center… She'd stared at Wayne Tower for a while when it'd risen into view, and part of her had wanted to ask Damian about it. But then, looking over, she'd seen that his eyes were still trained on the road — and the space between his brows was uninterrupted, the characteristic wrinkles gone. It was as if he found the drive to be peaceful, too, in the same way that she did.

"An entire city to look at on this drive, yet you choose to stare at me."

Jess nearly jumped at the way he briefly glanced at her, a knowing glint in his gaze, before looking ahead again.

Heat rising in her face, she scoffed and waved a hand. "Pfft. Don't flatter yourself," she retorted. "I wasn't staring at you. I just… I can't tell if you're bored out of your mind or actually enjoying this like I am."

To think she would've been better about being able to look at him without accusations of staring. Sheesh, he really was full of self-confidence, wasn't he?

"It's… much more tranquil than I'd expected."

A pause, then: "Is it what _you_ expected?"

Damian was glancing at her, his face unreadable and occasionally illuminated by the street lights they passed. She couldn't immediately tell if he was being facetious and poking fun at her saying she'd always wanted to go on a night drive, but something told her he was being genuine.

"No."

She caught the slight, raised brow he gave her, but then she tossed him an impish smile, adding, "It's better."

That night, Jess dreamed of bright lights, thousands of them twinkling against an endless night that was trying to swallow them up. Despite the pressing blackness, the lights endured, pulsing and glowing with determination. As small as they were, scattered across the infinite, dark canvas, they were many… they still mattered, and that seemed to mean something. She could feel it as she watched them, enamored.

Curiously enough, she also dreamed of colors that danced between all those lights — well, no, they were shades, hues of the same color instead. It carried the brightness, offering safety from the darkness underneath, and she found she didn't want it to ever leave.

It was the prettiest green, glittering like emerald, hardened like diamond, but warm…

Like the way he made her feel.

* * *

**Note: **well, Jess definitely didn't last very long in Central City lol. but she's back in Gotham and maybe things will start looking up for her... we'll see o.O

thanks as always for the reviews, favorites, follows! i have a lot of things planned for the next few updates and have been trying to sort it all out in my brain, but i've also been insanely busy with work lately and just life in general. can you believe October is almost over? i could've sworn it just started a few days ago. (also, it snowed for the first time this past weekend but it didn't stick. idk about you guys, but I love winter... just not the cold lol. i grew up here in Alaska so i definitely associate it with the holiday season, and i love the holidays too but obviously everything is very different this year)

hope you're all doing well! until next time, xx


	31. Fair Games

**Chapter 31: Fair Games**

"I don't get it."

Jess's brows furrowed together as she stared at the graph notebook before her, eyes running over the math problem written in Damian's neat handwriting. The end of her pen made its way to her mouth, and then she was chewing on it in thought.

"What do you not understand?"

"Why is the first part of the sum '1'?"

"It tells you that 'k equals 0' here," he told her, pointing to the problem with his own pen. "Plug in '0' in this part of the equation, and…?"

Emerald greens watched her carefully; he could almost see the calculations in her head while she trained her concentrated gaze on the problem.

"Ohhh," Jess then said with understanding. "It's '1.'"

Quirking a brow, Damian prompted, "What would you plug in next?"

"Um, '2'?"

"And you'd get…?"

Silence, then a tentative "One-third?"

He nodded his head once. "Correct. Do that up until '5,' and you'll finish the sum."

A few minutes passed as he sat back in his chair and watched his friend scribble away at the page. They'd been doing this — getting together so he could assist her with her homework — for the first two weeks of school now. Here and there, they'd spent time in her dorm or at a coffee shop, but it seemed Jess was more comfortable being at the manor. Damian was not complaining though… certainly not. She wasn't difficult to "tutor" so to speak, although the girl did get frustrated easily, particularly when it came to precalculus and intro to physics. Luckily, those subjects were rudimentary to him, and while their time spent together might have been focused on her academic work, it was quality time nonetheless. As long as she was exercising patience, so was he.

"Okay, how about that?"

Next to him, Jess straightened up and moved the notebook towards him. One glance, and Damian was giving her a slight look of approval.

"Perfect."

"Finally," she sighed, dropping her pen on his desk and sitting back against the back of the chair. She stretched her arms upward while adding, "Just four more of these and I'm _done_."

"Are you staying for dinner?"

Jess lowered her arms and glanced at him, hazel irises bright. "I can if you want me to," she replied with a grin. "I mean, not like I have anywhere else to be, ya know?"

She'd been smiling more. That was a pleasant change he'd most definitely noticed, though it didn't outweigh other small things Damian had been paying attention to. At the moment, his friend was bouncing her knee under the desk, something he hadn't quite seen her do until recently. She spun that ring on her finger more frequently, even when she didn't seem to be anxious or nervous — when Damian had realized that, he knew there was something more to how she was feeling and what she appeared to let on.

Of course, it was clear Jess was in a better mood nowadays, adjusting to and becoming comfortable at Gotham Academy, her new home; she was typically excited to spend time with him or Misty (sometimes managing to get all three of them to do something together) and further explore her new, freer life.

Yet that didn't mean she was not still suffering from something such as withdrawals.

Damian had kept quiet so far, observing from his place and waiting to see if she would speak on it. Now, as he watched her cover her mouth as she yawned and moved her head side to side in order to stretch her neck, he knew she was still having trouble sleeping and that her body was exhibiting signs of stress through these new behaviors.

He opened his mouth, about to ask how she was feeling, when his eyes fell onto her neck. In her motions to stretch, the hood of her sweatshirt had shifted, revealing what appeared to be a dark mark on the skin. Immediately assuming it was a bruise, Damian's gaze narrowed and he sat up in his chair.

"What is that?"

"Huh?" She looked towards him, eyes wide.

"On your neck…" He reached out without thinking, pulling her hood further from her neck.

His fingers had grasped the material for all of one second before she yanked back, her own hand shooting up to readjust the hood. Diverting her eyes, Jess shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Quickly, she responded, "Um, nothing."

His gaze narrowed even further.

_You're hiding something from me._

Damian could tell he'd startled her; pink was ringing her cheeks now, giving him all the assurance he needed that she was nervous. Even if she'd managed to be smoother with her response and maintain eye contact rather than breaking it, the way the blood was rushing to her face betrayed her attempt to play off the mark on her neck.

"Jessica."

Was she going to lie to him again? What did she not want him to see?

It took a moment, but then Jess was glancing at him and back to the textbook in front of her, taking a deep breath. It was as if she was making a decision right then and there: she put her pen down and sat back, still not meeting his gaze.

"I've been trying to figure out how to tell you," she began slowly, fingers playing with the drawstring of her hood.

Damian waited (as patiently as he could), eyes running over her figure and reading the tension in it.

"Kade and I… we're, uh, together," Jess managed to say, hesitation heavy in her tone. "You know, official and whatnot."

The mention of the blond sent something sharp through his chest, but before he could even attempt to understand what it was, Damian then realized what was on her neck. That in itself brought about a different sensation, one that, for some reason, made his heart rate spike. A very brief, unwanted image of the way Kade had attempted to kiss her that day she'd been in his passenger seat flashed in his mind. Was he shocked that Jess had never mentioned how close they'd gotten or that she was now actually dating him?

No.

But, in reality, he couldn't blame her for being unsure of how to tell him… because, however she'd anticipated he would react, Damian knew her assumption was correct.

"I wasn't going to hide it from you," Jess was saying then, her voice quiet. "I just didn't know the best way to… break the news, I guess."

He was fully aware of the stir of negative emotions and unpleasant feelings were rising in him, but Damian was keeping them at bay. Disappointment might have been one of them — he couldn't quite tell at this point. All he knew was that he was anything but happy at this discovery, yet… a small voice in the back of his head was urging him to hear her out.

_As if she could possibly have a good reason for wanting to pursue a relationship with him._

"Look, I know you're not his biggest fan, but..." She glanced down at the drawstring she was fiddling with before sighing and continuing, "I think … I think I could be pretty happy with him, you know?"

Wary, hazel eyes met sharp, green ones, though nothing changed in Damian's face. After a moment, she looked away as if she could tell he was having a difficult time coming to terms with this.

And he was. He wished he wasn't (didn't he?), but alas, there was very little that could convince him this was a good idea. The biggest reason was the fact that Kade was the common denominator when it came to Jess and her use of stardust, so of course Damian's immediate reaction was his desire to scold her. Yet she seemed to have a response for that as she went on in her reasoning.

"I also know you don't like him because of the stardust thing, but you don't have to worry about that." Jess turned to him, her knees knocking into his under the desk. "He knows that I quit and don't want to use it anymore. He's not going to use it around me or anything like that."

The tentative smile she gave almost stirred something in him, but he was too concentrated on his battling thoughts to pay attention to it. Part of him was hell-bent on convincing his friend that she was better off without someone like Kade, whether as a friend or, worse, something more... but another couldn't stand to be the reason she was upset or unhappy. Was there a possibility the blond would redeem himself in Damian's eyes and prove to be someone good for Jess?

Could he simply be holding her back and doing her more harm than good?

"Damian..."

Her gaze had softened and so did her smile. Though he'd resorted to staring at her neck where the hood still covered the bruise, he could feel her eyes on him, trying to read his face.

He did want her to be happy, didn't he?

Jess continued, "I'm not asking you to just turn around and pretend you like him. But it'd be nice if you… you know, try and support it?

"And… maybe even get to know him better? Or at least get along?"

He hadn't been quite convinced until two words that she added a moment later.

"For me?"

Damian tore his gaze from her neck, clenched jaw working as what remained of his resolve dissipated at her request. With a defeated sigh, he finally responded sharply, "Fine."

Another smile broke across her face as she leaned over from her chair to wrap her arms around him in a quick embrace. "Thanks, Dami. That means a lot."

"What does Misty think of it?"

Jess sat back down and was silent for a moment before responding, "She's worried about the stardust thing, too, but she's happy for us. I mean, it's up to me to stay off it, not him, so…"

Neither of them said anything, Damian turning her words over in his head. It was no surprise that Misty seemingly wasn't as opposed to Jess's new relationship in the same magnitude he was, but it also made sense that she'd expressed the same worries. Yet he couldn't argue with his friend that it was on her to ensure she didn't relapse and begin depending on the drug again.

On the other hand, that did not mean she couldn't be influenced and coerced as she had been before.

He cleared his throat. "Just know that if he does anything —"

"Are you really playing the 'If he hurts you, I'll hurt him' card right now?"

She regarded him with a stern look, one brow raised as she crossed her arms.

Damian matched the expression with his own (he knew his seriousness couldn't be outdone), raising his own brow in return. "Yes, I am. You wouldn't feel the same?"

Jess seemed to consider his words as she held his gaze, but then she was rolling her eyes and unfolding her arms. "I guess I would. That's what friends do, right?"

She was tossing him a sly grin and adding, "Not sure I can be very vengeful if a girl hurt you, but I would try. I guess it depends on how bad the situation is. You, on the other hand…"

"What about me?"

"Let's just say I have a strong feeling no one should piss you off."

He felt the corner of his mouth lift in a slight smirk. "Hmph."

"What, you don't agree?"

"I do."

Jess scoffed. "I don't know whether to feel safe or scared," she joked.

He felt his mouth open — "There's no need for you to be afraid of me, Jessica," he wanted to say — but then he shut it, a particular, distasteful feeling crawling under his skin. Memories and the ghost of his katana in his hands lingered, making the young man take a moment to force them away while remaining composed before his friend.

His friend… who still only knew half of him.

"Well, after all this time, I know you're not as intimidating as you look," Jess was saying, seemingly oblivious to the moment he was having. She flashed him a teasing wink before beaming.

"Mm" was all Damian said.

"I mean, there's nothing wrong with that…"

"Would you like to continue discussing my threatening demeanor or complete these last few equations before dinner?"

"Relax, Einstein. With you tutoring me, I'll breeze through these."

"Einstein was largely recognized for his contribution to theoretical physics, not mathematics."

"... Same difference."

* * *

When Jess had invited him to the fall fair that had arrived in town, he'd assumed it would only be the two of them, perhaps Misty at most. But when he'd inquired further about it later on, Damian had been disgruntled learning that not only would Misty be present, but Kade and others from their social circle would be as well. Jess had proceeded to nearly beg him to join, promising she would schedule a whole night for the two of them later in the week.

"I'll pay for your ticket in, too," she'd also offered.

He'd refused, but somehow she'd managed to do it when he wasn't looking by purchasing them ahead of time. So he certainly had no choice but to appease her and tag along — that, and the tickets were non-refundable. It was annoyingly clever on her part, he'd give her that.

"You should be used to me doing this stuff behind your back by now," she'd teased with a grin.

"I'm not quite sure I enjoy it."

"Oh, shut up. You're going to tell me you didn't like being surprised with Neo and me coming back?"

Her hazel irises had nearly sparked with challenge, and Damian had found himself trapped in a corner. _You walked yourself into this one_, a voice had taunted in the back of his mind.

When he hadn't answered, his friend had snorted and said, "Thought so."

Currently, he and Jess were waiting at the fair's entrance, swarms of fair goers surrounding them. The sky was a grayish shade of blue, and the ground was wet from the previous night's rainfall. Arms crossed and wearing a black jacket over a lightweight hoodie, Damian took in the scene that was a bit too social for his comfort at the moment. A ferris wheel and other tall structures were moving in the distance while food trucks had been placed closer to the entrance, the sickly sweet smells of cotton candy and donuts mixed with hot dogs and fries drifting in their direction. The air was punctuated with distant screams of people riding what were, in his humble opinion, dumb rides and shrieks of small children.

"Oh, there they are!"

Jess was waving from where she stood, and Damian followed her gaze to the group of teenagers spilling in through the gates. It wasn't hard to find Kade; he was one of the few that were the tallest in the bunch, his blond hair falling messily over his forehead. Misty was right behind him, comically small in comparison, her bright pink raincoat making her stand out. There were only two others that Damian recognized from his years at the academy, but the remaining three boys were strangers. Out of habit, his eyes were scanning them all, taking in their non-threatening demeanors and the way they laughed at something one of them had said.

"Sup, Wayne." Misty, having joined them and greeted Jess, was looking at him.

"Misty."

"I commend you for dragging him here," she said to Jess.

She caught the glare he shot her and grinned, clearly unfazed. Like Jess, she'd quickly gotten used to his facial expressions and behavior.

Chuckling, Jess shrugged. "It came with a price though."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"I haven't decided yet," Damian responded flatly, gaze straying towards Kade, who was leading his group of friends towards them. The cool, gray-blue eyes first landed on Jess before moving onto him, though nothing seemed to change in his face, which appeared unbothered.

"Yikes," was all Misty said, shaking her head.

"Tell me about it," Jess responded as she looked up at Damian to grin at him. That was when she realized his gaze was elsewhere; once she saw that Kade was approaching, a shift took place in her expression.

She closed the remaining distance and gave him a hug, the two of them exchanging smiles. And then he was kissing her forehead, making her smile widen as he walked up to Damian, who was still standing in the same place with his arms crossed.

"Nice to see you, Wayne." Kade extended a hand, Jess lingering at his side and splitting an interested gaze between the two.

It was just for a split second, but Damian hesitated… until he grasped the teen's hand and shook it. "Noor."

"You any good at these kind of carnival games?"

Shrugging, he crossed his arms again and replied bluntly, "I wouldn't mind competition if that is what you're really asking."

Jess's eyes seemed to bug out and she appeared to open her mouth, about to step in, but Kade only grinned. "Well, damn, straight to the point. Alright then, I'll take you up on that."

"Name it, and we'll do it."

He raised his brows in surprise while Jess looked on in confusion as if she was unable to comprehend what was happening. "I get to choose?"

Damian's eyes glinted. "The choice is yours and yours alone," he confirmed.

Kade held his gaze for a brief moment before nodding and grinning again. "Sounds like a plan."

He proceeded to take Jess's hand then and walk further into the fair activities, his friends trailing behind. Jess looked back at Damian, a clear questioning expression in her eyes, though he knew she would find the opportunity to ask him whatever was burning in her mind. At his side, Misty was regarding him with an intrigued gaze.

"That was bold of you," she commented while they followed behind the group.

"Well, what else were you expecting?"

She casually answered, "That you'd deck him."

Damian's eyes snapped towards her just as the teen raised her hands in innocence and quickly added, "I'm kidding! I was totally kidding."

He said nothing, weaving through bodies and looking ahead to make sure he could still see the familiar blond head. Connecting his fist to Kade's face did sound inviting, though he didn't have a clear reason to do such a thing. Yes, part of him was convinced that the young man's role in Jess turning to stardust gave more than enough justification, but now that he knew what was happening between them… it made that desire a bit more complicated. Besides his dislike towards the teen, what else could condone a single punch that would override Jess's happiness?

The list was not long.

"Jessica would not appreciate it if I did that."

"Ah, so you still don't like him," Misty mused, understanding in her tone as she continued walking beside him.

Damian considered his words carefully. He had no desire to let slip anything that would concern her or make it to Jess's ears at a later time. "There are many people I 'don't like.'"

"That's fair… but hey." She glanced up at him, a slight, impish smile on her face. "We both know why we aren't super thrilled about their relationship, right? But like you said before, it's on her to be strong and quit the dust for good. As long as Kade doesn't do something stupid and he's around to help her like we are, she just has to not relapse and use again.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure Kade is having a hard time getting his usual supply. I think GCPD is finally taking it off the streets. Guess that's a good thing, huh?"

He fought the urge to correct her, knowing very well that it was thanks to him and his father that the drug was more difficult to obtain. "If he treats her well, I suppose that's the least we can ask for."

They both fell silent for a few moments until Damian saw Jess waving them over to the booth for ride tickets. Discreetly, he said to Misty, "I am still not a fan of him calling me by my surname."

There was something condescending about it, and he somehow felt comfortable sharing the sentiment with Misty.

"Well, so do I…"

"Consider yourself having earned an exception."

"I'm honored, truly."

"You sound like Jessica."

"Not all of us are immune to being a wise-ass like her."

Misty snorted at the look Damian gave her, one that told her she was only proving his point.

"Come on, _Wayne_. We'd better catch up before Kade thinks you're chickening out."

"Very funny."

* * *

Some time later, the group had found its way to the variety of game booths. Jess and Misty were sharing a bag of cotton candy, speaking with one another while Damian watched Kade approach him with the corner of his mouth lifted in a sly grin. Nodding his head towards the family throwing darts at balloons lining a booth wall, he spoke up.

"How's your aim?"

Damian saw Jess approaching in the corner of his eye. "I'm a decent shot," he said smoothly to Kade.

Jess was scoffing then but her boyfriend didn't seem to notice. He was turning to her and asking with a raised brow, "See something you like up there?"

Her thoughtful, hazel-colored gaze roamed the stuffed animals and silly prizes adorning the booth, both young men watching her. Damian didn't believe his friend was one to be highly interested in childlike toys and playthings — at best, she merely enjoyed having numerous pillows from what he'd seen of her room in Central City — but it appeared that Kade was offering to win her one of them.

"The blue octopus looks really soft and squishy," she finally said, earning a determined nod and grin from the blond.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes fell onto something past Damian, making them widen with disbelief. "Is that…?"

"That's Liv," one of his friends — Peter was his name if Damian recalled correctly — told Kade with a peculiar excitement, his gaze turned in the same direction.

"She's an old friend I haven't seen since last semester," Kade was then telling Jess, grabbing her hand. "Come on, let me introduce you."

"Uh… be right back." Jess shot Damian an apologetic look as the young man tugged her along. They appeared to be heading towards a young brunette who was standing about thirty feet away with another teenage girl, the two of them taking a selfie with the ferris wheel in the background.

Damian heard Misty's voice next to him as she announced, "Don't wanna leave you alone, but I gotta find me a drink. I remember now why I don't like this cottony stuff."

"I'll be fine."

She was gone moments later, though he wasn't alone for very long. Jess was returning now without Kade, who was apparently still engaged in conversation with the Liv girl and their friends. Her eyes darted around as she asked for Misty, and Damian informed her of her friend's whereabouts.

Simply nodding, Jess glanced back in Kade's direction and then to the teen employee who was collecting money from a couple wanting to try their hand at popping the balloons. Curious, green eyes watched her — just as Damian considered speaking up, she turned to him with an entertained gaze.

"'I'm a decent shot,' huh?"

She'd caught his use of the very statement she'd told him that day they'd crossed paths in the arcade.

"Are you really trying to compete with him just for fun or…?" Her brows raised in questioning while she gazed up at him.

Or what?

"You asked me to get along with him," he answered nonchalantly.

There was a hint of suspicion in those hazel irises yet Damian held her gaze with ease, wondering if she would dig further.

But Jess was looking him up and down then, crossing her arms. "I did," was all she said with a quick, grateful smile.

He said nothing, following the way she looked towards Kade and his friends again and glanced at her watch. He could tell she was growing a bit anxious and perhaps impatient, and part of him wanted to do something about it. If Damian had it his way, they would be leaving by now and they would watch a movie in the theater room and eating leftovers or merely playing with Neo, yet… _You are here for her regardless_, he heard in the back of his mind.

"I'm gonna see how much longer he'll be."

Damian watched as she headed towards Kade, weaving her fingers through his to get his attention. He'd been laughing at something his friend had said; he seemed to glance distractedly at her before responding to the question Damian had seen her ask. He watched as Kade kissed her forehead — the young man was quite affectionate, wasn't he? — then went back to chatting away as Jess left.

Inquisitive, green eyes ran over her while she stopped next to him. Huffing a sigh, she gave him a small smile and said, "He'll be another minute."

Another minute plus several more passed, the two of them still standing near the booth and killing time with talk about her classes. Damian took note of the way she glanced at her watch again and how her eyes flickered in Kade's direction before meeting the ground at her feet. Something tugged at Damian's chest then, prompting him to step forward and exchange words with the teen manning the game. Jess turned around once she realized he was no longer standing in the same spot as before, confusion furrowing her brows.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

Damian gestured towards the darts laid out before him and raised a brow at her. He caught the quick glance she shot in Kade's direction, a gesture that almost irked him, but then she was at his side, reaching for one of the darts.

"I'm going to suck at this," she sighed before attempting a throw and making it bounce right off the balloon she'd aimed for.

Glaring at the remaining darts, she muttered, "Well, they definitely make them blunt on purpose, don't they?"

Expectant, hazel eyes looked up at Damian, so he picked up a dart — they did intentionally provide ones with blunt ends, yet that wasn't going to stop him — and with clear ease, sent it straight through the same balloon, popping it. Jess's mouth fell open as she stared at the spot where the deflated latex hung. Nearby, the teen employee was regarding Damian with an impressed gaze.

Jess split her dumbfounded glance between the board and the former assassin who was smirking the slightest bit. "How?" was all she said.

Wordlessly, Damian handed her a dart. He then stepped closer to her, wrapping his fingers around hers to show her how to throw it. "You need a better angle," he explained, moving her hand forward to demonstrate the appropriate throw. "Start with your palm facing upward..."

After the mini lesson, Jess was making her second attempt, and the two of them watched as she failed again. Yet while she went on to grumble about it, Damian was aware of the odd tingling sensation in his fingers that had held hers. Before he could think much more of it, the teen working the booth was asking him which of the larger stuffed animals he wanted. That was when Damian turned to Jess, nodding his head towards him so she could give an answer.

"Wait, really?" Her eyes widened in both confusion and amazement. "But you're the one who —"

"Jessica, I didn't do it so _I_ could have a stuffed animal," he told her in a somewhat snotty tone that was accompanied by an eye roll. "You said you like the blue one, correct?"

Moments later, the blue octopus was in her embrace and nearly the size of an average pillow, its eight arms like unrealistically small and short stubs. There was a cheeky grin on her face as she thanked him, pretending to struggle with hugging him using two of the arms. Though Damian's automatic response was to roll his eyes again and not entertain her playfulness, he couldn't help the smallest of smiles at her goofy demeanor, especially as she continued whacking him lightly with the octopus arms.

"Help me name him," Jess was saying.

"Do I look like someone who names stuffed animals let alone owns any?"

"No, but that doesn't mean you can't come up with a good name." She emphasized her point with another thwack from a stuffed arm on his bicep.

"If you keep doing that, I'll be less likely to help you, and I'm already averse to the idea of naming an inanimate object."

"Sorry," she responded although the grin she gave him said otherwise. "It's just that you're funny when you're annoyed."

"Tt. And you enjoy it."

"Bingo."

The octopus arm hit him again, eliciting a glare from Damian that should've been acidic but only had Jess snickering and then childishly sticking her tongue out at him.

"You know you love me."

The glare remained on his face, but her words seemed to trigger something… somewhere, though he didn't know what or where. He was in the process of formulating a witty response in return, taking in the devilish grin she was giving him, when he heard Kade's voice from behind.

"Sorry about that. We had a lot to catch up on. You still want to play?" he asked, approaching the two of them, but then his cool gaze landed on the stuffed octopus in Jess's grip.

"Oh, it's okay. We already did," she told him. "I mean, _I_ sucked at it, but Damian nailed it on his first try. Literally."

Her enthused eyes flickered from the blond to Damian — he could see the way the gray-blues split a glance between him and the octopus, putting two and two together. A hint of smugness snuck into the former assassin's face, who stood there casually and silently. (He was fairly confident the teen wouldn't have been able to score as well as he'd confidently boasted earlier.)

Damian was expecting any sort of negative response from the teen… yet Kade was merely grinning. "Nice going, Wayne," he said charmingly. "Probably better you than me."

"It wasn't difficult."

"Easy for you to say," Jess snorted before looking up at the blond and asking, "Where to next?"

Kade ran a hand through his hair and answered, "Well, it sounded like Misty and a couple others wanted to try their hand at some games down at the other end."

She stepped towards him then, prompting the teen to sling an arm around her shoulders as they started in the direction of their friends. Yet Jess looked back to ensure Damian was following, flashing him a smile.

"_I think I could be pretty happy with him, you know?"_

* * *

Since that night at Kade's, Jess had assumed that part of their relationship could include doing schoolwork together. Not that getting it done with Damian was a bad choice — it certainly wasn't, not with his unsurprising intelligence and, on the other hand, surprising patience with her. But didn't it make sense to try and do homework with her boyfriend since they shared some classes together? It seemed like something teenage couples would do.

If that didn't make her feel like a complete novice at this relationship stuff, plenty of other things did. She was still getting used to referring to him as her "boyfriend" to others and thinking of him as such. And even though she'd adjusted to his affection and the way he'd acted towards her over the summer, something about it felt different now that they were exclusive. Maybe it was simply just knowing she was his and he was hers, and it made everything that much better. The whole, new situation felt exhilarating and good all around at this point; all she could ever do nowadays was smile around him and have a good time.

That being said, the only thing that threw into their gears was, well, the very thing Jess had anticipated, and it had happened during what was supposed to be a night for homework.

"You okay?"

She'd witnessed the way Kade had dropped his pencil and rubbed at his eyes, sitting back in his chair at the desk in her small dorm.

"Yeah, I'm just losing brain power," he muttered before reaching for the energy drink next to his textbook.

"Wanna take a break?"

Sighing, Kade shook his head. "I want to get this done before I go home. My parents want to do some dumb family game night or something stupid like that."

He was rarely annoyed, and Jess had learned that whenever he was, it usually had something to do with his family. Though he was relatively close to his brother, that was because their parents were always away. Kade was accustomed to being home alone hence the frequent parties and friend gatherings. Things were a bit more difficult lately now that his older brother was back in college in another state.

"That doesn't sound too bad," she tried.

Icy eyes rolled at her. "It sounds like hell. They always act like everything is normal when they get back from their trips."

Something about the words spilling from him poked under her skin, though Jess thought little of it. She wracked her brain for something comforting to say until she saw that he was bending down to rummage around in his backpack on the floor. Whatever he retrieved sparkled in the bedroom light, making her heart jump into her throat.

"Kade…"

"Hm?"

His gaze shifted from confusion to realization, and he was quickly shoving the little baggie into his pocket. "Damn, sorry. I completely—I forgot. I just… I can't concentrate anymore."

A forgiving though hesitant smile crossed her face as she averted her gaze and battled the familiar yearning that was growing in her chest. "It's okay. Can you just… do it out in the hall? Or outside?"

"Of course," Kade said as he grabbed the energy drink and headed towards the dorm door, returning the smile. "I'll be back."

They'd discussed this. She'd told him she didn't want him to take any of the drug around her let alone mention or suggest it. It would be fine if he carried his stash like he always did as long as it never came into sight. Everything had gone smoothly so far… until now, clearly. _This is just a one-off_, she thought as she stared at her notebook. They were still adjusting to these circumstances, and at least he was supporting her. Mistakes were bound to happen with something like this, especially since, over the summer, they'd used stardust together often. It was a change they both had to make.

He was back within a few minutes, neither the can nor the baggie in sight. Laying down on her bed, he gestured for her to join him on the mattress. Jess complied, throwing her leg over him and hugging him. With her head on his shoulder, he wrapped his arm around her and rested his hand on her waist. She did her best to concentrate on their closeness, hoping it would help do away with the familiar, buzzing desire to take stardust. It'd been a little bit easier nowadays as long as she kept herself busy and distracted, but that never meant it didn't affect things like her hunger — half the time, she still caught herself imagining dumping the substance into her drinks or in her food.

"I'll be better about it from now on," he was saying.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

Kade reached over with his other arm and retrieved the blue, stuffed octopus that Damian had won for her the prior weekend. He seemed to examine it before putting it down on the bed where it had been sitting. "Wayne seems… like he's warming up to me."

Jess found herself smiling a little against his shoulder. "I think so, too. It might take a while, but that's just how he is. Believe it or not, he was the same way with me when we met."

"No way," he chuckled.

"Yep. I mean, I did act kind of clumsy and weird, so that didn't help."

"You being clumsy? That's not what I've seen when you're in the ice rink."

"Well, yeah, I'm a lot more graceful on ice. But I dunno, he made me kind of nervous in the beginning."

Kade paused briefly before asking, "'Cause of the way he looks like he's always pissed or thinking hard about something?"

"Pretty much. But I've… I've learned that he's a really good and caring person and…" Jess's voice grew quieter as she stared at the wall opposite her bed. "He's just very protective of himself, which I don't blame him for. And somehow I managed to make the cut when it comes to being his friend."

Silence fell between them, making her realize this was the most they'd ever discussed her friendship with Damian. The last time they had, she'd told Kade that her friend knew of their relationship. Before that, Kade had been expressing his frustration with the tense situation between her and Damian almost two months ago. He knew that she'd asked Damian to be more open to their new relationship, and on the other hand, Kade had said he would do the same. It made breathing a bit easier when both her friend and boyfriend were in the same room, especially considering the way their first impressions had formed.

"Well, he's more than lucky to have you as a friend," Kade said softly.

She could feel his head shifting to look down at her, so she moved her own back to meet his eyes. They were slightly bloodshot now from the stardust kicking in (he'd probably taken more than usual — homework must've really irritated him), but they shone with endearment, making her gut twist with butterflies. Out of the blue, his mouth was on hers as he gently pushed her onto her back. One, warm hand traveled from her waist, briefly slipping under her shirt to touch her bare skin, up to her neck. All previous thoughts of Damian, stardust, and history homework dissipated from her mind as they were replaced by desire and heat.

A small part of her wanted to tell Kade they still had a few homework problems to finish, but that voice shrunk the longer she remained under his figure on her bed — how was she supposed to try and suggest something like that when he was tenderly biting the skin on her neck?

So maybe doing schoolwork with him wasn't quite as productive as she'd hoped.

* * *

"Neo!"

The cat completely ignored her, dashing out of the living room and into the hall. As carefully and quickly as she could, Jess dropped her plate of food onto the table and took after the animal. She nearly slid on the polished floor in her socks but regained her balance and hurried after the tail disappearing around the corner. She'd almost made it to the end of the hall when Damian stepped right in front of her from one of the doorways. Of course, that meant he'd startled her in her chase and she tried to dodge him—

Both their hands shot out, hers to keep from running into him and his to catch her, bumping into one another as she managed to stop in her tracks. Damian's brows furrowed in alarm as he looked her up and down. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

Having grabbed his arms to steady herself, Jess released him and gestured in the direction Neo had gone. "Neo stole my hair tie," she told him breathlessly.

His eyes seemed to twinkle. "And here I thought it was a real emergency."

"It is! That's my favorite hair tie, and he's somewhere in this huge house chewing on it and probably snapping it in half."

"'Favorite hair tie'?" he echoed with a single raised brow.

"Yes. It has the perfect amount of stretch. Everything else I have is too tight or loose."

"Jessica, I'll buy you new ones—"

"Whatever you buy isn't gonna work. Just help me get it from him," Jess urged. She found herself reaching out to tug at his bare wrist, both her hands wrapped around it. "I've had it for so long. Pleeeease…"

His emerald greens stared at her for almost too long, making odd tingles rise in her forearms and shoot down to her fingers, where she was still touching him. Without saying anything, Damian simply sighed and started down the hall; Jess dropped his wrist and followed after him.

They found the cat in the kitchen, sitting atop the fridge doing exactly what Jess had dreaded: he was biting and pulling at the brown hair tie. It was stretching and snapping into the air, and that in turn just made him even more intrigued with it, his large eyes following its every movement. A minute or two of coaxing didn't result in any success, Neo ignoring every word and bait they tried to offer. Jess was considering grabbing a kitchen stool when the hair tie launched away from the cat and fell to the floor — she dove for it and snatched it up just as the animal landed silently beside her.

"That was very rude of you," Jess told him with a feigned frown, slipping the tie safely onto her wrist and snapping it to make sure it was as stretchy as necessary.

"You're ridiculous." Damian was retrieving a glass from the cabinet and heading towards the fridge.

"Hey, you just don't understand because you don't have long hair—"

"Silence," he suddenly demanded.

"Uh, now _you're_ being rude, too?"

"Jess."

He was standing still, eyes on the kitchen doorway. Tension had overtaken his figure, and then his gaze hardened. Confused, Jess watched as he set the glass of water down and headed towards the hall, and she stood to go after him.

But Damian looked back at her, something fiery in his green irises. "Stay here," he said firmly before disappearing.

_Yeah, right._

Jess crept to the doorway and poked her head into the hall, watching her friend make his way to the manor's foyer. That was when she heard faint voices — Is that what had caught his attention? — coming from there, chattering in a way that didn't particularly sound good. Stepping out, she walked steadily and quietly, straining her ears to hear what was going on. By the time she'd made it just a few yards away, she could almost clearly hear what sounded like Bruce and Damian. Jess pressed her back against the wall and listened.

"Why didn't you call?" That was Bruce.

"You really think I'd call when I can just show up?" She didn't quite recognize this voice.

"Give me _one_ reason I shouldn't—" Damian. He sounded… _heated_, to say the least.

"Damian," Bruce said in what sounded like a warning tone.

A few moments of silence and then a scoff. "This is the welcome I get? Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"It's just that this isn't great timing, Ja—"

"It's horrible timing," someone muttered. It sounded like Selina.

"Why not? I come by for the first time in a while, and you all happen to be here. Saves me the trouble of having to come back another time—"

"And you shouldn't have."

Why did Damian sound so upset? Who were they talking to?

Jess snuck closer to the foyer, trying not to bump into the standing table with photo frames and trinkets on the corner. If she could just peek around and catch a glimpse… Bruce and Selina's backs were towards her, and Damian was standing a bit of a distance away from them though Jess could see part of his face from this angle.

His face. He appeared to be fuming, that carved jaw set angrily while his gaze burned into something (or someone?) the three of them were looking at. Jess followed his gaze to who must've been their unexpected guest…

And felt her breath catch in her throat.

The dark hair with the tuft of white at the front. The sly yet mysterious blue-green eyes that gave him a peculiar youth, the tall, somewhat towering figure that almost matched Bruce's. And so came the onslaught of memories of droll remarks, a massive hangover, an unfamiliar apartment… and a red helmet.

Something brushed past Jess's legs, scaring her out of her dumbfounded state and making her jump nearly a foot in the air. Unfortunately, her hand had knocked over one of the frames on the standing table, and now all four pairs of eyes were turned onto her. Body flushing with heat and embarrassment, Jess vaguely saw Neo in the corner of her eye walking on by as if nothing had happened — at the same time, Damian's gaze narrowed at her from across the foyer.

Jason's eyes seemed to glint as they landed on her. "Alright, well, this is awkward."

* * *

**Note: **hey y'all, hope you enjoyed this one! (sorry, wanted to end on a bit of a cliffhanger for this update xD) it's just too fun writing witty and smart-ass bits between the two, but i hope you could tell they're having some small ~moments~ lol. aaaaand then there's jason, stirring the pot by showing up unannounced.

thank u for the reviews and all the love! more dramatic things coming to you (hopefully) soon :)


	32. A Draw

"_You make me feel like I can feel again_

_You make me realize the story didn't end_

_I didn't know my heart could hurt like that_

_Everything was numb and just like that,_

_You make me feel like I can feel again"_

_~ Kina, Au/Ra, "Feel Again"_

* * *

**Chapter 32: A Draw**

"Jessica."

Though the air had vanished from her lungs and she could hear the blood pumping in her ears, Jess met Damian's blazing eyes. "I told you to wait for me," he snapped in a sharp tone.

"I…"

She couldn't form a sentence let alone a coherent thought; all she could do was stand there like an idiot, her brain attempting to connect the faces in the room and the few pieces of information she had about what was happening.

"Jess, why don't we give them a minute?"

Selina was walking towards her then with a small smile. Jess couldn't bring herself to answer; she let the woman take her arm and lead her back into the hallway, though the teen couldn't help glancing behind her shoulder to see Damian's gaze lingering on her before returning to Jason. A minute later, the two of them were in the kitchen, Jess seated on a stool with her elbows on the marble countertop. There was just silence as Selina rummaged around in the fridge — Jess was straining her ears, trying to figure out if there were any raised voices or some kind of argument taking place.

Red Hood, aka Jason Todd, was here. And somehow he knew the Wayne family. Did that mean they knew…?

"Hungry?"

Jade green eyes widened curiously at Jess as she looked up from the fridge.

The teen shook her head. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you."

She hardly paid attention as the woman heated up some leftovers in the microwave, leaning against the counter and watching her. Too many questions were running through her mind.

"Who is he?"

Selina's face was unreadable at Jess's question as the microwave hummed in the background. They'd been getting to know each other little by little recently since the woman was spending more time at the manor (she hadn't quite moved in yet considering she wasn't in a hurry and the wedding wasn't until next year). Though Jess didn't quite feel like she was in a place to be completely open with her, her curiosity and impatience to understand this weird situation were stronger.

She looked the teen up and down. "What has Damian told you?"

Jess paused then replied softly, "Nothing… I mean, I don't think he's mentioned him before."

She would've known if Damian had ever brought up this Jason Todd/Red Hood guy, right? Come to think of it, the only other people in his life he'd spoken about were his siblings, who were all off living their own lives, like Dick, Steph, Cass, Tim, Jason—

_Jason._

Something seemed to feel like it was clicking in her head now. He'd talked about him very briefly, never going into much detail about the older brother's whereabouts or where he lived nowadays. Of course, "Jason" was a relatively common name, so she couldn't have assumed that the Jason Damian hardly spoke of could be the same Jason she'd met this summer.

But now that guy was standing under the same roof as her because somehow he had some kind of relationship to this family. And there was only one explanation her befuddled brain could come up with.

"Is that his brother?"

Letting out a deep breath, Selina regarded Jess with a kind expression. "I don't want to tell you anything that Damian might want to say himself, so…"

Jess's gaze fell to her hands as she absentmindedly played with the hair tie on her wrist. She wasn't even going to answer that simple of a question? Would Damian tell her anything if she did get the chance to ask? Something about the situation made her feel as if he'd be likely to keep quiet about it — might've had to do with how frustrated he'd looked back there. Clearly, Jason's appearance had struck a nerve.

The microwave beeped, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Selina retrieving the tupperware container of stew and a spoon from a drawer. Did _anyone_ know Jason's other identity?

"Forgive me for how cliche this sounds," Selina began after blowing on the soup for a moment, "but I can tell Damian cares about you."

The corner of Jess's mouth lifted. "Is that why he seemed so annoyed that I didn't listen to him?"

Shrugging, the woman answered, "He's a lot like Bruce in that way. They want to protect the ones close to them, and they'll get mad at you if you don't let them."

"Trust me. I know from experience," she added with a wink and knowing grin.

But Jess had latched onto a specific part of what she'd said… "Protect"? What did Damian need to protect her from?

Before she could think of something else to say or ask (maybe a question Selina would actually answer), there was movement at the kitchen entryway. Damian was looking at Jess, appearing just as agitated as ever. He was silent though, only tilting his head towards the hall to communicate that he wanted to speak with her. Glancing at Selina and then getting to her feet, Jess followed him. It wasn't until he was almost at the end of the hall, moving quickly, that she noticed his car keys were in his hand.

"You're leaving?"

"_We_ are leaving," he corrected, not looking back at her.

Jess sped up her pace to catch up to him and fall into step at his side. "Why?"

"I am not answering any of your questions until we are back at your dorm." His voice was as tense as he looked.

"Damian, what is going on—?"

He stopped suddenly in his tracks, turning to look down at her. His bold, green eyes were filled with something that almost… _scared_ her. They weren't fiery with anger like she'd expected; it was something like worry creasing the skin between his brows and saturating his gaze.

"Jessica, please," was all he said, quietly but firmly.

Swallowing hard, Jess remained silent until he seemed satisfied with her lack of response, walking off again. _That was weird. _By the time they reached the garage, she'd realized something.

"My backpack is still in your room."

Damian sighed and told her to stay put (not failing to give her a mild glare) before making his way back upstairs. Jess stood outside the door to the garage, crossing her arms and trying to control the hint of anxiety simmering in her gut. She'd be able to hold back from asking him questions until they got to campus, right?

"I guess now I know what they meant by 'bad timing.'"

Her heart skipped a beat at the sudden voice as she whirled around — Jason, no longer wearing his jacket, was standing several feet away and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"How long have you been there?" Jess managed to ask, looking him up and down.

"Not long. You looked pretty lost in thought," he told her casually, blue-green eyes narrowed in interest.

She didn't say anything. What was she supposed to say to that?

But then something crossed her mind, prompting her to straighten where she stood. "You're his brother, aren't you?"

Jason let out a short laugh though humor didn't reach his eyes. "Of course he barely told you anything about me."

"Does he know?"

At that, the older man said nothing, the corners of his mouth falling as seriousness took over his features. Maybe he wasn't going to tell her anything the same way Selina hadn't, but Jess figured she'd try.

Too many moments passed as Jason appeared to contemplate her question, but then he was pushing himself off the wall. "Just so you know… I didn't know you'd be here."

And then he was walking away, the brunette staring after him in bewilderment. What the hell did that mean? Part of her wanted to stop him and demand he clarify, but he was already gone and Damian had returned with her backpack. His eyes were darting around upon seeing the look on Jess's face, wondering what she was reacting to.

"What?" he asked her warily.

"Nothing," she answered smoothly, reaching out for her bag. "Thanks."

Neither of them said anything during the trip from the manor to Gotham Academy, a heavy, awkward tension wedged between the two. Minutes after they made it to her small dorm — even now, she still couldn't get over the fact that she'd managed to get one on her own — Jess found herself glancing at her friend every now and then, wondering if he was going to say something. While she'd been walking around, putting her things away and tidying up her desk, Damian had sat at the foot of her bed, elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor.

It wasn't until she couldn't find anything else to busy herself with that Jess finally plopped down in her desk chair and scooted towards him — she was directly in front of him now, their knees almost touching. She reached over and grabbed the stuffed octopus from behind him, bringing it into his view.

Clearing her throat, she told Damian, "I decided to name him Otis."

He glanced up at her, green eyes unreadable. "How did you come up with that?"

"Starts with 'O' like 'octopus.'"

Her response earned the slightest scoff from him. If she hadn't been watching his face and figure, she would have missed it. His gaze had turned downward again, settling on the stuffed toy in her lap.

"Why did we leave, Damian?"

_Why are you upset?_

The tightness was creeping back into his shoulders again; she could see the way his clasped hands tensed up for a moment. Too many quiet seconds passed, and Jess considered asking a different question when Damian finally spoke up.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he replied, "That was Jason… the one I have mentioned before."

"But never talked about."

The words had slipped out. Jess saw the way he looked up at her, though his expression wasn't one of annoyance or irritation. Instead, he appeared almost exhausted, those typical wrinkles gone from between his brows.

"The last time I saw him was nearly two years ago. I haven't… We haven't seen eye-to-eye since then," Damian explained, his voice strangely quiet.

"And he just showed up out of nowhere?"

"Yes."

She paused for a few moments before saying, "I wonder why."

He was staring at the octopus again, maybe watching the way she was fiddling with one of its stubby arms. "I… I don't know."

"What happened between you two?"

Damian ran a hand through his hair before resting his forehead in the same hand, still not meeting her eyes. "Jessica," he began tiredly, "that is not a story I want to tell."

But why did it seem like one that wasn't quite over? All these questions were spinning around in her head, begging to be asked and answered; it was taking a bit of self control to exercise patience but Jess knew she had to. Clearly, Jason's unannounced appearances had set him off enough to make his mood change as quickly as it had. And knowing Damian, she felt like she needed to tread carefully. Though she had never really given it much thought why Damian hardly talked about his brother, it made sense now. The two of them apparently had some unresolved history that made her friend so willing to leave and not be under the same roof… even after two years.

Determination took over Damian as he shifted backwards on the bed until he could rest his back against the wall. "While I don't know what his plans or intentions are, we will have to take care to not be at the manor whenever he is," he said while once again resting his arms across his knees.

"... Really?"

His emerald gaze snapped onto her quickly. "Yes, really. I can't have you around him."

"What? Damian, what does that even mean?" Jess's brows knitted together as she stared at him.

Irritation flashed in his features as he retorted, "I do not want you around Jason. His lifestyle hurts people. That's all you have to know."

She couldn't help the humorless scoff that escaped but took note of the confused glare he gave. Throwing her hands up and sitting back in the chair, Jess said, "So I'm just supposed to sit in the dark and not have any clue."

"You are not entitled to knowing anything more than—"

"I'm not asking for you to tell me everything. I just don't think it's fair—"

"Life is not fair, Jessica."

"Don't do that."

They stared at one another, blazing, green irises meeting hazel ones that had a strange desperation in them.

"Don't do that to me, Damian," she went on, her voice quiet but stiff. "I don't need you trying to reason with me in that—that condescending way that you do."

He looked like he wanted to respond, but Jess continued as she leaned forward in her seat. "I get that you and Jason have this… _thing_, whatever it is. But I… I feel like it's a big enough deal that you want to go as far as, you know, keeping me away from him.

"And maybe it doesn't have to make sense to me, maybe you don't have to tell the whole story right now, but…"

_Talk to me, Dami. Just talk to me._

Fighting the sudden lump in her throat, she got up and sat with him on her small bed, close enough to touch him if she wanted but with enough distance that wouldn't make him feel suffocated. He'd broken eye contact, training his glare onto the comforter.

"I'm here, you know."

That was all she could say, her tone having dropped to barely above a whisper. She didn't know if any of what she'd said would matter, if he'd care at all, or if it made any sense, but he had to know he didn't have to carry that weight, didn't he? He had to know that their friendship was a two-way street; he'd been there for her when she'd needed him, and Jess wanted to do the same.

The biggest difference was that Damian was stubborn in his own Damian Wayne kind of way, and she would hardly be surprised if he refused to share anything with her.

He was pinching the bridge of his nose now, eyes closed. Jess watched as he then looked over at her, emerald greens filled with bleakness.

"I can't, Jessica," he eventually told her quietly.

Like that day she'd visited him after Titus's death, the pain was all in his eyes, accompanied by tears he would never cry. Jess's heart beat uncomfortably in her chest as she looked away, trying to think of what to say. She couldn't keep asking him to explain, not when he was like this. It was true — he didn't owe her an explanation despite how much she wanted to know what made him practically hate his own brother, but she also wished her friend would give himself the chance to tell someone about it. Tell _her_.

Damian was taking a deep breath, his gaze trained outside her window where darkness was falling. "I know that you know."

"... What?"

"Jason. Red Hood. That night he helped you."

His voice had grown strangely calm then, but it did little to ease the sudden nerves she felt. Damian knew?

She didn't even know what to say. Jess sat there for several long moments before deciding to ask, "How?"

"Despite my efforts to ignore him and remove him from my life… he reached out to me," he told her slowly, "after discovering our… relationship."

Recovering from the initial surprise, the brunette contemplated whether she should be upset. Was this something to even complain about? Maybe she should've been mad at Jason for running his mouth, maybe…

"Were you going to tell me? That you knew?"

Damian met her eyes, his face unreadable. "Were you going to tell me you already knew who he was when you snuck down the hall and saw him at the door? Were you going to tell me at all that you've been having encounters with Red Hood this summer?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "Guess this is the part where I say 'touché.'"

"I also know you've run into Robin several times."

She couldn't help the next scoff that escaped, a taste of annoyance pinching her nerves. Looking directly into his eyes, Jess shrugged. "What else do you know that I don't?"

It'd been one thing for him to say he'd known about her run-ins with Red Hood. It shouldn't have surprised her at all that he also knew about the other masked hero who'd always found a way to track her down, but something about them being stacked on top of each other just irritated her.

Did this mean he was hiding more from her? And if so… what?

"Anything else you want to share with me that I don't know about besides your own brother being a freaking vigilante? Does Dick run around doing the same thing in New York City?"

"_No_."

The single word was firm and immediate. Emerald greens bore into her so strongly, they made her look away no matter how hard she tried to stare right back.

But what right did she have to know any of that anyway? Even if there were more wild secrets like Jason's (though it couldn't have been _that _big of a deal if even he didn't really care she knew), she couldn't just ask to hear about them.

Jess wasn't sure how much time passed with the two of them sitting on her bed, avoiding each other's gaze. All she did know was that what she was experiencing felt too similar to what had happened almost two months ago, when Damian had discovered she'd been using stardust. It felt similar to how Robin always knew what she was up to and had consistently gone out of his way to find her.

It felt out of her control.

"He was supposed to protect someone close to me."

Damian's tight voice jolted her from her thoughts, making her look over to see his eyes were glazed over like he was seeing memories… a past that clearly haunted him still.

"And he failed. That's—that's all I can tell you."

He was clenching his fist again. Jess reached and took it gently to rest it between her hands as she rested her head against his shoulder. She didn't caress his fingers or offer him words of comfort; she simply waited… and eventually felt the tension leave his hand until, little by little, it relaxed and his knuckles were no longer white.

His breathing was even, but she could tell he was doing everything he could to keep it that way. Everything about this practically mirrored that day in his room — Damian was tormented, and this time around, Jess knew that all she could do was be there, hold his hand, and let him feel what he needed to. Somehow, they just worked that way when words couldn't be said or spoken in an artful, magical sense. And she was fairly certain she couldn't see it being any other way.

* * *

Of course, Damian refrained from telling the entire truth to Jess. Had he known Jason would show up on their doorstep (quite literally), he would have been much more prepared when it came to deciding what he could or could not share with his friend. She knew who Jason truly was, after all, and even that alone made things much more complex and difficult than they already were.

He had to continue keeping her in the dark. Jason's appearance might have been a wrench thrown in the works, yet Damian was not going to allow his brother to continue breeding chaos. It was most likely going to be messy, navigating this situation and determining what he could and could not tell his friend, but it had to be done. Even if it meant trading truths for lies.

Yet he wanted to be open with Jess, didn't he? Even if it was a mere inch-wide opening of a door. Something about the way she'd looked at him and said "I'm here, you know" had brought about a yearning in him that he could not ignore.

Unpleasant memories and images flashed in his mind's eye, making him inadvertently clench his fist again between her hands. But Damian was practiced; he could re-shelve them the way he always had and build walls to shield himself from that dulled pain. And that's what he attempted to do as he sat there, staring intently at nothing across the room.

Without thinking, he added quietly, "She and her family moved out of Gotham not long after. I haven't… That was the last time I saw or spoke with her."

Her skin was warm — he didn't know if that was why he felt his fingers loosening or perhaps it was entirely some other reason, yet Damian couldn't bring himself to find the answer. All he could do was close his eyes and focus on the contact and the way it seemed to magically ease the tension in his hand. He couldn't quite name what it was, but the sensation traveled up his arm and—

"Damian."

Her voice was soft, so soft he wasn't sure he'd actually heard it. Opening his eyes, he saw that she was gazing at him, brows furrowed with unconcealed concern and tenderness. That was when he realized he felt something slipping down his cheek.

His fingers came away with wetness, and he stared at it in bewilderment until he heard her speak again.

"It's okay to cry, ya know." Her tone was teasing yet genuine and gentle at the same time, just like the hazel irises still on him.

Taking a slow breath in through his nose, Damian forced himself to look away… suddenly afraid that the pressure behind his eyes would remain there.

Jess's head rested against his shoulder once more. Like routine, her arms snuck around his bicep, squeezing him gently for a moment in a sort of embrace. A mix of her sweet shampoo and characteristic smell of musky lavender briefly passed his nose. Brushing away the tear's lone trail on his face, Damian tried to calm his heart and swallow past the lump in his throat, still at a loss in determining how this was happening.

Somehow, Damian had a feeling she likely wouldn't have brought it up on her own, how she knew Jason's second identity… in the same way he wouldn't have mentioned it either. At least it was a draw in that regard — neither of them could point a finger at the other without pointing one back at themselves. Perhaps Jess would have eventually told him about the night she'd met Red Hood, perhaps Damian would have told her that he knew about that night. Either way, they'd both been hiding their own version of the truth.

And here he was, with even more skeletons and secrets in his closet.

"Maybe we should just stop hiding stuff from each other."

Damian had to scoff, earning a raised brow from his friend as she lifted her head to look at him. It was as if she'd read his mind.

"What? I did say 'we,' not 'you.'"

He said nothing, merely looking down at where her arms were still wrapped around his bicep. This… the way they sat, how easily she reached out to him, how comfortably warm and comforting it felt… He never wanted it to change.

"I have to admit I have a lot of questions about him being Red Hood and how you feel about it…"

With a sigh, Damian answered dismissively, "Perhaps we can discuss that another day."

"Do you think he came back because… he wants to make amends?"

Her question twisted his gut, and his hand clenched reflexively before he forced it to relax. Echoes of Jason's voice, angry and confused, bounced around in his head. Missed calls, left voicemails, until it was only silence and not a single word from him again.

_I am not sure I want to._

"I don't know anything at this point," he admitted.

And he despised it. He hadn't been able to get much out of the older man back at the manor… nothing but pathetic excuses for wanting to "catch up" and other nonsense. Damian had run out of patience quickly, deciding he'd rather leave with Jess and ensure she was away as soon as possible. At the moment, he didn't care if Bruce would be able to get a proper answer from his older son or simply take that opportunity to reconnect with him. As long as Damian and Jess weren't around, the young man would breathe easier.

Moments passed, the two of them sitting there in silence. It was peaceful and almost soothing (he'd never thought he would find such a simple thing to be as such). Part of him contemplated changing the subject or suggesting he return home — he still wanted to question Jason — when Jess spoke again.

"I'm guessing this means you know Robin, too."

Attempting to calm his heart rate, Damian smoothly replied, "No. I don't."

It sounded like she was taking a deep breath beside him. "I know it sounds really weird, but there have been times I've felt like I know him. I dunno how to explain it. Maybe it's just because of the whole hiding-behind-a-mask thing and the fact that I've run into him so many times."

How would Jess react if she really knew? She would be shocked for some time, surely, but what about after that when she recovered from the initial surprise? Would she be understanding? Would she despise him for lying, for keeping his other identity a secret?

All questions he had asked one other time, years ago, upon meeting Irene and realizing what he'd felt for her.

He had a strong, gut feeling Jess could possibly hate him for more than that.

After momentary hesitation, he asked, "What is he like?"

Jess was quiet for a few seconds. "He's… mysterious... for lack of a better word. I don't know a single thing about him, but he had my back this summer, so I guess maybe I trust him. Weird, right?"

Jessica Fairchild trusting a stranger in a mask? It sounded nothing but characteristic of her.

"Can I ask what her name was?"

Cautious yet kind, hazel eyes waited for his answer to her seemingly abrupt question, and it took a moment or two for him to nod once.

"Her name was Irene."

* * *

"I came to warn you."

"About?"

Despite the way her eyebrows rose, he could tell she knew precisely what he was talking about. They had, after all, discussed Jason's mistakes in her dorm room upstairs when he hadn't been wearing this suit and mask like he was now, standing in front of her as she sat on the bench by the building entrance. It was mere hours after he'd gone back to the manor, yet his older brother had no longer been there, Bruce saying something about how he'd made his visit quick.

"He didn't want to stick around for very long," he'd said.

Although Damian had wanted to make a snotty remark, he'd bitten his tongue and refrained from doing so. All that mattered was that Jess might now understand why he couldn't stand to be in the same vicinity as Jason… Now, perhaps the masked hero she supposedly trusted could drive the point home.

"Red Hood. He's dangerous."

She looked away, shivering in the night chill as she brought her knees to her chest. "Care to tell me why?"

Robin let out an exasperated sigh and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I know from experience," he told her, unable to keep from the sarcasm tainting his tone. "Vigilante and hero stuff, you know."

"You have some perfect timing, coming here to tell me this the exact day he showed up," she told him, eyes filled with something he couldn't quite read. "So what about you?"

"What about me?"

Jess rolled her eyes and stood from the bench, taking a few steps towards him and gesturing at his figure. "You visit me at night with that sword at your side, warning me about a guy who runs around with guns as if there's something about him that makes him any different from you."

_We _are _different._ Despite the darkness and Gotham Academy's dim, outdoor lights behind her, he caught the way her eyes drilled into him… as if she was attempting to find something in his face beneath his hood.

"I don't follow—"

"Instead of beating around the bush, why don't you tell me why I should avoid him? Give me an actual reason to be afraid of him." Jess crossed her arms and looked around, flustered, before glancing at him again. "Because as far as I'm concerned, you could be just as dangerous as Red Hood. It's only your word against his."

Annoyance seared through him. "And as far as _I _know, I've looked out for you."

"So has he."

At that, Robin and Jess were silent, nothing but their intense stares between them in the surrounding darkness. He had no ounce of desire to admit it… but he knew she was right.

_But only to a certain extent_.

That one night he'd taken her off the street did not mean Jason Todd couldn't slip up again, hurting Jess… or worse.

"Look…" she was saying, her voice quieter than before. "I get your concern, but I think I can figure this one out on my own."

She let out a defeated laugh as she reached up to run her fingers through her hair. "And yeah, you're right — you've been there for me more times than I would've imagined, and I appreciate that, but… Why?"

His brows knitted together beneath his mask. "Why what?"

Jess paused for so long he almost thought she wouldn't answer. "Why do you care so much? Why do you keep finding me when I'm doing fine after earlier this year?"

There was a pang in his chest. Briefly, he saw the way she'd looked at him on that hotel rooftop the night after her arrest, how she had seemed curious yet wary at the same time. He'd only visited her because his father had asked him to… and from then on, every visit had been his own decision. Because he'd _wanted_ to. Because...

"I have to."

He could tell she was only confused further, her mouth opening to probe him more. Stepping backwards, Robin gestured towards her and said, "I gave you my warning. Red Hood is not a man you want in your life."

It wasn't until he was several yards away, walking further into the night, that he heard her call, "You don't actually 'have to,' you know… There are other people in this city that you should care about."

Ignoring her, Robin left her alone, waiting and hidden in one of the campus's darkest areas. He watched as she took another minute to stand there in front of the building, appearing completely lost in thought, before going back up to her room. The light behind her curtains went out after a short while, telling him she was climbing into her bed. He wondered if she was thinking about him, about Robin, about his brother. What was going on in her mind? Would she take what Robin had said into consideration? Perhaps she would compare his warning to what she knew about Irene.

What he did know as he continued patrol that night was that their moment in her dorm room had done something that hadn't occurred in an extended period of time. He'd already known his friend had somehow found her way beyond his defenses, that she allowed him a space that didn't require false pretenses and lack of emotion… yet after he'd confessed that he could not share the experience that had left him and Jason estranged, after she'd taken his hand and remained silent, Damian had felt the familiar signs of human emotions and vulnerability he had consistently ignored for years.

Memories, old feelings, this inexplicable friendship he'd found in Jess — all of it had reminded him what the desire to cry was like.

If there was anything he knew once again and more than ever, it was being able to _feel_.

* * *

She heard a huffed sigh and looked up to see what appeared to be annoyance written on Kade's features as they continued walking down the concrete path. He'd caught her between classes to walk her across campus and see what she was up to. "Wanna go on a date?" she'd asked, eager to find some time with just the two of them, especially after the past week.

From what she knew, Damian hadn't seen Jason after that day he'd shown up. Maybe his big brother had gotten the message (again) that Damian didn't want to see him around, but Jess had been less concerned about their history and more worried about her friend. Though things felt fine after their impromptu heart-to-heart, she couldn't help thinking back to the fact that Damian's _brother _was Red Hood, an actual hero, vigilante, whatever he wanted to call himself, wearing a mask and apprehending bad guys. How had that affected the way he'd grown up besides the situation with Irene? Why did he do it at all?

And speaking of Irene… Jess had seen the way Damian changed while talking about her. She could tell the entire ordeal had prodded at the scar, that it still hurt on rainy days, that it was one of the reasons he was the way he was. His vulnerability had made her feel this certain desire to protect him from anything else that could hurt him… including Jason. In spite of the few things she knew about the man and how he'd helped her that night she'd been drunk out of her mind, there was nothing to take lightly about what had happened between him and Damian. Maybe she didn't quite understand, and of course she hadn't been there, but Jess would have been naive to ignore how torn her friend had looked, sitting on her bed and doing his best to open up to her.

Confusion knitting her brows together, Jess asked, "What?"

"Nothing," was all Kade said, face turned straight ahead.

Slowing in her steps, Jess reached out and took his hand to turn him towards her. "That sigh didn't sound like 'nothing.'"

Though Kade stopped walking, he didn't meet her gaze: his eyes trained on something behind her as he pulled his hand back and crossed his arms. "I just might have plans already with the guys and Liv this week."

"You have plans on both Thursday and Friday?"

"Yeah."

She blinked. "Um… okay, well, what about Saturday?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, staring at the ground before meeting her eyes.

"Look, Jess, I love that you want to spend time with me," he told her calmly with a small smile, "but you gotta share me with everyone else."

Her chest tightened and an almost sour feeling rose in her gut.

Clearing her throat, Jess broke eye contact and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "What are you saying?"

She pulled her coat tighter around herself. Fall was approaching Gotham quickly; it still got relatively warm during the day and much colder at night, but rain was more frequent now, too. At this point, she'd learned to keep an umbrella in her dorm from now on.

Kade took a deep breath, looking away momentarily and then locking eyes with her again. "I'm just saying you're… you're being a little clingy."

At that, she didn't know what to say. Swallowing against the thickness in her throat, she found herself glancing around to see if anyone was witnessing their little discussion out in the open. The nearest group of students were across the courtyard though, engaged in their own laughter and activity.

Clingy.

"I just think we already spend a ton of time together."

"And that's a bad thing?"

He raised a brow. "Well, when it's almost every day, yeah. I get that you don't really have a lot of people to hang out with besides me, Misty, and Wayne, but you know, I'm a little different. I have other friends I wanna see."

She locked eyes with him then, slightly insulted. "Did you really just say that?"

His gray-blues widened for a second before he rolled them and threw his hands up helplessly. "I didn't mean it like that. Come on. There's nothing wrong with you not having a lot of friends."

Heat was flushing her cheeks and the rest of her body, filling her with irritation.

"What I mean is that we spend a lot of time together, and I need to breathe. Alright? That's it. It isn't a big deal."

All she could do was stand there, humiliation slowly taking over the confusion and annoyance. This was entirely new to her, but… she supposed it sort of made sense. They did spend every other day together, although after that day at the fair, he'd been a lot busier. Still, that didn't mean this conversation was making her feel any less uncomfortable and surprised at how he was apparently feeling.

Cool eyes flashed at her silence, and then Kade was raising his brows again. "Jess?"

Her heart was sinking into her stomach. His words definitely didn't sit well with her. Part of her didn't think it was quite fair that he'd played that card, but another urged her to just appease him. What would it hurt to let him dedicate more time to other friends and things he liked to do anyway? Especially compared to not doing anything about it at all. And it wasn't like he'd said he _didn't _enjoy time with her. Obviously, quality time just wasn't quite his style.

After a moment of hurried albeit slightly painful contemplation, she took a deep breath and conceded, "Okay. But could you just tell me when you do want to hang out or go on a date? You know... keep me updated."

Kade's brows fell, the seriousness leaving his face. "Of course."

She only offered a tentative smile, suddenly unable to say anything more. Her only hope was a change in his frustrated attitude.

He then returned the gesture with his own sly grin, reaching out to take her face in his hands and plant a kiss on her nose. "Come on, let's get you to class."

Burying the previous, bitter feelings of embarrassment and hurt, Jess let him take her hand and lead her across the courtyard, filing away a mental reminder to see if Damian wanted to hang out later in the week.

* * *

Days later, Kade's answer was still the same. She'd been patient, spending the rest of her school days with Misty or Damian or some other classmates she'd met, but the wait hadn't been worth it. It was a Saturday afternoon that Jess called him while in one of the Wayne manor's numerous bathrooms, eager to find out if he wanted to catch a movie she'd been eyeing over the next few nights.

"Eh, not really interested in that one. I never liked that one actor's movies."

"Okay… well, we could see something else?"

There was a sigh on the other end. "Babe, I'm probably not free until Wednesday anyway."

"... Again?"

"Yeah, again."

She had to take a deep breath as she stared unseeingly at the sink, her phone pressed to her ear. "Okay," she answered simply.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I promise I'll be free on your birthday at the least. I'm trying my best to juggle all this, so I'd really appreciate it if you don't make it more complicated. Kind of getting annoying, Jess."

Against her will, her eyes stung, making her shut them and force herself to take a deep breath. There were so many questions she had and so many other things she wanted to say… but she didn't.

"I know," Jess told him in as even a voice as possible.

"Alright, I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"

The next few minutes were spent trying not to drown in feelings that made her feel nothing but pathetic and… well, a little humiliated again. Was she really as needy as he said? She did like hanging around her two friends and boyfriend more than she enjoyed being by herself (most of the time) — maybe that did make her "clingy."

Shoving all the rampant thoughts from her mind, she returned to the kitchen where Damian had finished putting together the salad they were going to share. She hardly paid attention as he made her a bowl, aware of the slight headache filling her head. It was getting a bit easier every day going without stardust, but it only took a small thing to set off the withdrawal symptoms: stress over a homework assignment, a bad dream, allowing herself to slip into a state of overthinking… worrying about being a burden. The phone call seemed to check those boxes, making it difficult to remain present and mindful about where she was and who she was with.

"Jessica."

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

She swallowed hard before straightening up and looking over at Damian, who was peering at her from where he leaned against the kitchen counter. He seemed to analyze her for a while, green irises heavy with suspicion.

"Food on my face?" she tried to ask in a witty tone, looking back down at the salad before her. She stabbed a baby tomato but didn't bring it to her mouth.

"_Kind of getting annoying, Jess" _echoed in her head.

That was when he moved in the corner of her eye, approaching her until he stood right next to her stool. Out of nervousness, Jess glanced up and saw that the scrutinizing look had disappeared from her friend's face. It'd been replaced by something almost amiable, which kind of caught her off-guard.

"Are you alright?"

The words yanked at the plug she'd shoved into her pipeline of emotions. A hint of the urge to cry ached in her chest, but Jess bit down on it.

"I'm okay. Are you?" she returned casually, reaching to take a sip of her water.

"Jessica."

She couldn't help sighing. "_What_, Damian?"

"Why have you been crying?"

At that, Jess's gaze snapped immediately onto him in alarm. Hadn't she fixed herself up enough in the bathroom? She'd even waited to make sure her eyes were no longer bloodshot and that her mascara looked fine, smoothed her hair back into its ponytail.

But Damian was looking at her with something like… worry? Those slight wrinkles were there again between his brows, a slight frown on his lips—

Without warning, a warm tear slipped down her face, and Jess reached up to wipe it away while averting her gaze. "Was hoping you wouldn't notice," she mumbled.

He was silent, so she took a deep breath to try and curb the growing desire to continue crying. "It's just… it's still hard going without, uh, stardust. You know, I don't always get a lot of sleep and there are times I just get restless and worry about things."

There was definitely something else, another thing that made her hurt that she couldn't bear mentioning… especially since it would most likely make Damian upset. And she didn't want to do that to him.

"I wanna ask you something..."

Damian raised a brow, moving to lean against the island counter right beside her.

Clearing her throat and keeping her gaze on the salad, she asked quietly, "Do we spend too much time together?"

"You asked a similar question when we first met."

She remembered that. He'd told her he didn't mind giving her rides around town and that he enjoyed her company.

Jess shrugged. "Do you ever wish… we didn't hang out as much?"

"... No, I don't. Why? Does someone think we spend more than enough time together?"

"No…"

Not necessarily.

"Is it Kade?"

"Well, geez, that's presumptive of you." She raised a brow at him despite the urge to cry that was still in her throat and chest.

"'Presumptive'?"

"I learned it in my literature class, okay? Why are you assuming it's Kade?"

Damian held her gaze with ease until she sighed and threw her hands up in defeat.

"I just… wonder about it sometimes, that's all. I wonder if you and Misty get tired of me."

"What are you really concerned about, Jessica?"

Normally, she would have most likely snapped at him for being so nosey and needing every detail… but her mind only drifted to the two separate conversations she'd had with her boyfriend, both during which he'd expressed how he needed them to spend less time together.

"Maybe I'm clingy," she finally answered. "I don't know. It's stupid."

Reluctantly, Jess looked up and saw the shift in her friend's face. "You truly believe that?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

She couldn't respond, not while fighting back the tears.

He was crossing his arms now, training his eyes across the kitchen on nothing in particular. His jaw was set as he clenched it, telling her that he was reacting in exactly the way she'd predicted.

She saw how much he wanted to disagree, so she shook her head. "It's not a big deal, okay? I'll get over it."

"Jess—"

"Look, I'm just tired and everything is getting to me." Her voice trembled, wavering just like her strength keeping her together.

Damian's eyes softened just a little bit. The way he was looking at her — Jess had to tear her own gaze away as another tear escaped. The next thing she knew, he was taking her elbow gently to pull her up from the stool. His arms were around her then, and the gesture dislodged that plug in her emotions, making the sobs rise from her chest.

Who knew if everything tearing at her was supposed to? Maybe it all felt too much because she was just riddled with complicated feelings and dumb sentiments, or maybe she simply wasn't built to handle all of it. _That's a question for my therapist next week_, she bitterly thought as she hugged her friend, allowing the safety that was his arms to hold her.

And then she heard him speaking quietly and slowly, his voice rumbling in his chest that her face was pressed against. It was strangely calming.

"I enjoy the time we spend together, Jessica. No matter what it is we're doing."

* * *

The look on her face when she pulled back the curtain was comical. The expression of suspicion and wariness had morphed into shock and then an eye-roll before she opened the window. Crossing her arms, Jess regarded him with a raised eyebrow but said nothing.

"Nice place," Jason mused as he peered past her to take a look around her small dorm room. "Pretty neat you have your own little balcony, too. Guess the Wayne money pays for itself, eh?"

Jess didn't laugh. "What are you doing knocking on my window at eleven o' clock, Jason? Or should I call you—" she dropped her voice, "Red Hood?"

"God, no. That's weird. Just Jason'll do."

"Okay. So…?" She pressed her lips together and raised her brows. "Wait, let me guess. You're here to make your case against what Robin and Damian have said about you… I was wondering how long it'd be until you showed up."

Robin and Damian in the same sentence? Whoa. Had his little brother…? Keeping his face passive, Jason looked her up and down and tried to read the girl. She looked sort of annoyed, sure, but that might've just been because he'd disturbed her this late on a school night. And, to his knowledge, she was still hanging around the Baby Bat, so he couldn't have possibly made the stupid decision to tell her the truth. Nah, Jason had a pretty damn good feeling Damian didn't want to go down that route — if he had, Jess wouldn't want to be near him.

The way she'd said both those names suggested she still saw them as two, separate people anyway.

Jason shrugged from where he leaned against the window frame. "I'm sure what some of they've said is true."

"Like you being dangerous?"

He had to chuckle at that. _Oh, Demon Spawn. _"Yeah, I guess that's true to some degree. What else they tell you?"

Her doll-like, hazel eyes glanced downward before meeting his again. "Honestly, not much else besides that." She sighed before adding, "Even if they don't know each other, they're sure alike when it comes to keeping things as vague as possible for me."

"You have no idea," he said without thinking and caught the puzzled look she gave him.

_Jesus, shut up, Jason._

Quickly, he changed the subject. "Anyway. I'm actually here to ask you what you know about Jax Eastman."

The name had her eyes widening for a fraction of a second as she processed the fact that he'd spoken of someone she knew. Jess glanced out into the night past him before softly answering, "I doubt I know as much as you do beyond the basics… Why?"

Well, she was probably right in that sense. Jason had dug up quite a bit of info when it came to the people she'd run around with earlier in the year, first as a routine check on the teenage girl and what she was like after their first meeting, secondly…

"Let's just say I've had to learn more about him and the little gang you ran with. More than I really care to know."

"What happened to him?"

"You don't know?"

"I really didn't pay attention after we got caught," she told him indifferently with a headshake. "As long as they were far away from me, I didn't care."

Jason then gave a heavy sigh. "Yeah, well... he got out on bail last week."

Just as he'd expected, something like a mix of disbelief and fear crossed her face, but he knew it'd only get worse. Besides, if she was scared or nervous about the guy being out on bail… the news Jason was _really_ bringing her would definitely be worse. Way worse.

Now, maybe showing up at the manor without knowing she'd be there had been a mistake on his part and definitely not part of his plan, but _this _was the thing that really mattered. It wouldn't have been a difference if he'd made this "attempt" at reconnecting with his family in a way that didn't involve the girl because in the end, this was where he'd have to start paying attention. This was where she counted in spite of the accidental way he'd gone and pissed off the demon brat (again) and stirred up more family trouble.

"He got out..." she echoed slowly.

"But you don't have to worry about that anymore," Jason told her solemnly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "Because, uh... the guy's dead."

* * *

**2 years ago**

One of the curses that came with being who he was… he felt it as he watched her walk towards him, dressed in a double-breasted coat with her raven-black hair tied in an elegant braid that fell over her shoulder. He could see it in her body language, in the way her dark eyes darted around her surroundings, how she had ignored every call and message he'd left her over the last several days up until this morning. It was a foreboding feeling, a heavy, sickening ball of ironic nothingness that had begun haunting him the moment she'd finally called and asked him to meet.

Damian had already known what she needed to say before he even found his voice to agree.

She stopped a few steps before him, a kind smile on her face to greet him. But he couldn't help noticing that it was not the same one she always gave him; it lasted too short, faltered, before she looked away and then met his eyes again.

He wanted to say something, but what? What could he possibly say after he'd spend days telling her everything he could?

"Thank you for meeting me," she said, voice soft but audible despite the distant noise of Gothamites and children in the park nearby. The hair framing her youthful face fluttered in the light breeze, and he had to resist the urge to tuck it behind her ear.

"I wondered if I should even call you and see you in person," she continued, looking up at him with the only pair of eyes he'd ever felt seen by. "But I decided that… even if I feel like you don't deserve it, it's the right thing to do. And I had to see you one more time."

She let out a short laugh, an airy one that he knew he'd never hear again. "To think I still can't bear missing out on one last opportunity to look at you… despite what happened."

He couldn't speak. He could only feel the dreaded emotions rising in him, the aching in his bones that was going to torment him for… well, he did not know, unfortunately.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning. Maybe you already knew that, but I just…"

Irene seemed to pause, something like pain flashing across her face as she swallowed and looked away. "I wanted to let you know face-to-face."

Of course he'd known. Yet all the time in the world wouldn't have prepared Damian for the guilt and hurt that washed through him then as he stared at the young woman he loved and had hurt in the same breath. He'd known from the beginning this could happen when he lived the two lives that he did, but it was at this moment that he reminded himself that he should never have fooled himself into thinking it would yield a desirable outcome. He should have remained cynical, practical, logical…

He should have protected her.

"Damian."

She was gazing at him again, eyes roaming his face. "If there's anything I want you to know about—about all this that happened… it's that I still mean what I said when you told me who you are. It's still true."

Memories of that day slipped into the edges of his mind, but he refused to let them in. It no longer mattered that she had called him a hero, that she had still attempted to make him "realize" he was more than what he felt. None of that held any weight when it was that very day he made the mistake of telling her the truth. It was the only reason she was standing before him, telling him that she would be leaving.

"Irene…"

The words wouldn't leave his mouth even after moments of trying to speak.

Tenderness filled her eyes. "I know."

He still couldn't bring himself to say a word even when she hesitated, looking torn with herself. She appeared to be longing to say or do something, yet Irene was taking a deep breath and making eye contact again.

"Take care, Damian."

And just like that, he continued to stand there, watching Irene walk away and take every shred of positivity and light in his life away with each step, knowing exactly why he'd lost her.

In every mistake, there is a lesson. And in this one, he had certainly learned — he'd learned the hard way, and he was never going to let it happen again.

Because Damian Wayne did not make the same mistake twice.

* * *

**Note: **so a lot happened in this update... haha. i felt the need to cover quite a bit as we continue into some more dramatic things (not going to lie, i rewrote this in so many different ways, i just get confused reading it back over so i figured that was a sign i should just upload it and be done with it LOL). i know it might've felt like Damian's big secret was going to be revealed, but considering how that worked out for him in the past along with his strained relationship with Jason, i think he's gonna do everything he can to keep that under control (and keep Jess in the dark). on one hand, he might want to open up to her and be honest, but on the other, he's more worried about making the same mistake he did with Irene. so we shall see how that works out for them later on xD

thanks for all the love and patience! hope everyone is doing well — this week was pretty crazy as i'm sure most of you know.

now i'm gonna go recuperate and try to get started on writing up more thrilling stuff. Jess's birthday, more Jason, more Kade (i know, i know, he's getting a little additional screen time but for good reason, promise)


	33. Wanted

cw: abuse, drug abuse, suggestive themes

just a heads up that i obviously added some content warnings like i did in the past (which are a few more than usual) but there is nothing explicit or super detailed. although it's pretty much implications and hints at this type of stuff, i want to be safe and inclusive!

anyway, happy reading :)

* * *

"_You're too busy talking over me to hear what I'm saying,_

_You're too high to realize I see the smile that you're faking,_

_You're so into yourself_

_Everyone else is so overrated and everything's changing_

_Is your heart worth breaking?_

_One-sided, one-sided, one-sided love"_

_~ blackbear, "1 SIDED LOVE"_

* * *

**Chapter 33: Wanted**

"_I like that you make me feel wanted."_

It'd been an admission of feelings she wasn't sure she had to share, but she did anyway. Another step towards being vulnerable and open, right? They hadn't been doing anything in particular, just sitting side-by-side on her bed and watching some random tv show on her laptop they'd chosen. All he'd done was throw an arm around her and bring her closer, running his fingers through her hair.

It'd been sort of a fleeting thought, a spoken response to the way his presence and natural displays of affection made her feel. Maybe it was simply because this was her first romantic relationship beyond a measly crush growing up, maybe it was because she hadn't known what it was like to be given the kind of attention that had her stomach doing flip-flops and heart pounding in her chest. Sometimes it was as simple as seeing the way he looked at her when she met his gaze, other times it was much more intimate than that like when his gray-blues seemed to pierce her from beneath the sheets and his hands were gripping her body like it was a lifeline.

That morning in August, before Jess had boarded the plane back to Central City, had been the one and only time she'd been under the influence of stardust. That wasn't to say she needed to be under the influence of anything — the substance made the entire experience different, sure, but the common thread was the same: it always left her feeling desired, even needed. Stardust or alcohol or neither, Kade treated her as if she were the only girl he cared about and the only thing he had (as cliche as it sounded) with the arm that held her close or the fingers that wrapped around her neck. Strangely, moments like this made her feel small and almost fragile in his hands, as if he could easily break her.

He always did, though, in the best way. Every time, it was a reminder that he had this kind of control over her mind, her body, her entire being. Every single time, he swallowed her whole, bringing her to a place where she was just surrounded by him and only him, vulnerable to his rough treatment.

And this moment was no different. She could taste a hint of blood on her bottom lip as she stared up at the bedroom ceiling, waiting for her breathing to slow. Her body was so warm under the sheets, a thin layer of sweat on her skin. Beside her, Kade was rolling over to face her and brush strands of hair away, his own locks an endearing, floppy mess across his forehead. His thumb found its way to her lip, gently, which was in contrast to what he'd been doing previously.

"Sorry," he told her with a knowing grin.

"It's nothing for you to be sorry about," Jess answered, returning the smile before slipping out from under the sheets and heading to her bathroom.

Minutes later, she was wearing his t-shirt, curling up next to him on her bed. That meant he was shirtless and only wearing his pants, thumbing through his phone. Her limbs were tired — and would probably be a bit sore tomorrow — as she yawned and then kissed his warm, bare shoulder.

In their casual talk, he brought up her upcoming tryout for the local, recreational hockey season for the winter. It had actually been Misty's idea; she'd mentioned it, urging Jess to think about joining. The teen's initial reaction had been one rooted in hesitation and uncertainty, particularly because it'd been years since she'd played on a team like that.

"So?" Misty had said. "You liked doing it as a kid, and it's not like this is super competitive. It's literally just a bunch of other local high school girls like you."

Then Damian had brought up a good point: it would be a good way to rekindle one of the handful of things that had brought her joy growing up. Even if she'd hung up her skates after the car accident, this could be her chance to get back into a hobby she'd loved. Sure, it would take some effort to get back into that competitive headspace and familiarize herself again with everything about the game, but it was supposed to be like riding a bike, right?

"If you need help buying gear—" he'd started to offer.

"No," Jess had immediately declined, giving him a stern look and receiving his raised brow. "I've got enough to get myself an entire, new set of equipment, Dami. And even if I did need help, I'd ask my aunt."

She knew he'd meant well and appreciated his willingness to make things easier for her, but Jess had informally promised him that she wouldn't let him pay for many things or do favors for a while… not when he'd done so much for her already.

"You ever get into a fight with other players?" Kade asked her, the corner of his mouth lifted in a devious grin.

Laughing a little, Jess played with the stuffed octopus legs as she answered, "Only twice. The first time, I was only jumping in 'cause my teammate and this other girl got into it. And the second time, this girl body checked me, which really pissed me off, so I shoved her away."

"Not gonna lie — the idea of you getting into a fight is kinda hot." His gray-blue eyes twinkled, making her roll her own and chuckle again.

"Hate to break it to you, but I'm not all that into the fights and drama. I've played with girls who were really meant to be the ones swinging fists. And body checking is actually not even allowed, especially in the league. It's fine for men's hockey though."

"Well, whatever does happen, consider me your number one fan in the bleachers, hm?"

She felt the smile breaking out on her face, not bothering to suppress it. The imaginary scenarios of him sitting on the sidelines, cheering her on, wearing team colors, scooping her up into his arms after a win were enticing for sure. Deep down, Jess knew that playing the sport again would be much different than it'd been in the past, but she had to remember that she did have people who would be there to support her. Even if it wasn't going to be her parents anymore… that didn't mean there weren't others who would care and be around.

"I think I could deal with that," she joked before resting her head against his shoulder.

She was more than willing to experience that.

* * *

"What the heck is this? Blood?"

Before he could react, Jess's fingers were grasping his wrist to turn his hand over. From where he sat on the couch in Misty's living room, he had to fight the automatic reflex to pull away — Damian watched his friend's brows furrow at the small, colored marks on his skin.

"Once you open your present, you'll see," he replied smoothly, still letting her examine his hand. There were odd sensations simmering in the places where she had touched him.

"You're telling me you bled for my birthday present?" She raised a brow, hazel irises bright with teasing and curiosity.

He couldn't help rolling his eyes. "No, I didn't."

"Good, 'cause I don't know how I'd feel about you literally bleeding for me… Although the fact that you kept it at home makes me really curious."

He hadn't brought her gift for two reasons: the first being that it was fragile, too precious to be transported more than once when it could easily travel from the manor to her dorm. Secondly, he wanted to give it to her in private and away from other eyes; Damian had never cared for making his gestures and gifts some kind of show to be watched by many others. This unwritten preference wasn't applicable to every situation, but it was a requirement for this one… _especially _this one.

Glancing at his watch, Damian noted the time with mild annoyance. Kade was fifteen minutes late, and neither Misty nor Jess seemed to care as much as he did. Perhaps it was just because of the way he valued time and punctuality — whatever the case, the blond's apparent excuse regarding "getting caught up in something" did not sit well with the former assassin.

He showed up several minutes later though when Misty and Damian were in the kitchen, prepping the materials to bake the cake. From where he could see into the living room, the young man caught Kade wrapping his arms around Jess's shoulders and kissing the top of her head — Damian read "Happy birthday, babe" from his lips before he bent down and whispered something in her ear, making her flush pink and swat his arm. Kade was grinning playfully at her as she scolded him then turned her eyes to the kitchen as if to see whether anyone had witnessed or heard the exchange.

Yet Jess would have seen Damian through the entryway, minding his business and his own gaze trained on the mixing bowl in front of him while Misty said something… though he did not hear a word she said and his thoughts were anywhere but on the task at hand.

He'd just cracked eggs and dumped them into the bowl when Kade entered, coolly greeting, "What's up, guys?"

"'Sup, loser," Misty responded from where she was pushing the oven buttons to preheat it.

"Wayne."

Damian looked over to see Kade extending a hand but then glanced pointedly at his fingers covered in yolk.

"Oh," the teen said, brows raising in interest and dropping his hand. "We've got Chef Wayne over here, huh?"

"It's just a cake." Jess was at his side then with a slight smile. "I wouldn't call him a chef for reading the back of the box, but he makes some good stuff from scratch otherwise."

"Only because you hardly know how to boil water."

Both Kade and Misty burst out snickering at Damian's offhand comment while Jess's mouth dropped open. She feigned a scowl though it was clear she was attempting to withhold her own laughter.

"Rude! Next time I'm in the kitchen while you're cooking, you're boiling the water on your own."

"Oh, however will I manage without you?"

"I dunno. You tell me."

She met his gaze, her eyes seeming to twinkle — was there another meaning hidden…? He didn't have a chance to interpret the moment because Misty was soon complaining about the kitchen being crowded. Kade moved to leave with Jess until Misty demanded that he help with the cake. At that, Damian noted that something so simple did not require three pairs of hands and that it would be done quickly anyway.

"Let me know if you need any water heated," Jess called before heading back out to the living room.

Damian had offered a dinner, celebration, whatever his friend wanted at the manor. Jess had insisted on merely gathering him, Misty, and Kade under one roof to spend time together and bake a cake. She'd even turned down the blond's suggestion to throw a party and invite school peers, something that didn't strike Damian as a surprise in the least. She only wanted the three closest people to her in one place — nothing else.

And of course, Damian agreed. He would have concocted an entire dinner meal with Alfred, made his father and Selina stay home to be present, set up balloons and baked her a cake, yet her desires had turned out to be straightforward and simple.

"This is the first birthday I've really been able to actually celebrate in a while," she'd told him. "All I need is just my favorite people around me. I really couldn't care less about presents and stuff, too, so you don't have to worry about any of that."

"Just hang out with me," Jess had added with a grin.

He would spend time with her… and ignore what she'd said about presents.

Nervousness was not an emotion he often experienced, yet as soon as they arrived at the manor later in the day, he could feel the familiar, unsettling feeling in his stomach. The knot grew tighter while he led her upstairs and into his room where the lowering sun peeked through the curtains he'd partially drawn. Something tall and hidden beneath a white sheet stood by the window, grabbing Jess's attention almost immediately. She looked at him in questioning, so he nodded and tilted his head towards it.

Wordlessly, she stepped forward and looked it up and down before reaching to tug at the sheet. Once she laid her widened gaze on the canvas, he saw the way her eyes changed: innocent curiosity morphed into realization and then a mixture of both sadness and wonder.

"You didn't," she managed to speak in a low, fascinated tone.

He didn't respond, simply and silently watching as she marveled over the piece of art he'd spent countless hours on. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of brush strokes and colors formed an image, a scenario that he'd dreamt up in his head randomly one day: two people were sitting and facing a setting sun beyond a treeline, two furry companions between them. In fact, everything about the painting was familiar and recognizable from the warm, brown hair of the girl on the right to the young, black-haired man on the left whose face was turned towards her. She appeared to be busy gazing at the pink, orange, and red sky, head tilted thoughtfully, while he and the dog looked at one another, the animal's pointy ears sticking up in the same fashion that Damian had always remembered them. On the girl's shoulder was the small outline of a cat with a snow-white coat and dark stripes, not quite a replica but familiar enough. There was certainly no chance that Jess wouldn't be able to recognize exactly what the painting was and who was in it, and judging by the way she was attempting to regain her bearings, she did. She knew.

"You didn't," she said again, eyes still roaming over the piece. "You…"

Glistening, hazel eyes then turned to him. "Dami…" The bottom of her lip trembled for a moment — she was clearly struggling to keep herself together — before she closed the distance between them and pulled him into an embrace.

Musky lavender and something else sweet, like vanilla or icing, touched his nose as he welcomed the gesture, hugging her. After a moment, she pulled back and dabbed at her eyes, looking at the painting again.

"I... can't believe you did this for me."

"You were adamant this summer about me continuing my art," Damian explained, his gaze flickering back and forth between the canvas and her face. "I didn't have much to… '_motivate'_ me until..."

She noticed that he didn't finish his sentence, her eyes meeting his. But she didn't point it out, merely saying, "It's _amazing_, Damian. I knew you were good at a lot of things, but wow..."

Stepping closer to examine the detail, Jess asked, "How long did this take you?"

"I started working on it shortly after you left for Central City."

"It's seriously so—I don't even know what else to say except… well, thank you." The smile she gave him was pure and grateful, sending a flood of warmth through him. "This is definitely the best gift anyone has ever given me. I mean it. Well, maybe besides the scholarship thing, 'cause that's…"

Her eyes fell to the floor, smile faltering for the briefest moment before she met his gaze again.

"You really know how to get a girl in her feelings, you know that?"

He should've been able to come up with a witty response or something Damian-like… yet, for some reason, he couldn't. It was rather difficult to do, strangely enough, when all he could focus on was the way her wide, hazel eyes were glittering at him, un-spilled tears making them appear brighter than they'd been before. The bold, colorful sunset spilled in from the window behind her, and despite his bedroom lighting, if he looked hard enough, the hair framing her head was being illuminated. The sunlight washed her in a soft, golden aura that she likely didn't even know was there.

Another view to recreate, perhaps, one that was real and not imaginary this time.

"I love it," he heard her say, realizing that she wasn't even looking at him anymore. "It's… incredible."

She'd turned her attention back to the painting, fingers hovering above the dried paint and thoughtfulness heavy on her features. He could tell she was growing emotional again as she took a deep breath and wiped hastily under her eye.

Damian was almost eager to have her in his arms again — she must've had the same idea because she was hugging him once more. This time, it lasted longer, allowing that familiar warmth deep within him to grow... until it enveloped both him and his best friend, wrapping them, changing, morphing into something that felt peculiar.

It was comforting, warm, secure, inviting — everything he'd never expected to feel after two years of ache and bitterness, things he hadn't wanted to feel.

It was terrifying.

* * *

She'd been minding her business in the manor kitchen, pulling a container of leftover lasagna from the fridge while Damian waited for her in his room. The catchy tune of some pop song she'd heard the other day filled the air via her casual humming while Jess punched the microwave buttons and headed for the cabinet. To her dismay, all the bowls were gone from the second shelf, but there appeared to be a few at the top and out of her reach.

Sighing, she stood on her tiptoes and stretched a hand up to no avail, her fingers just barely brushing the china. A wince crossed her face as she settled back onto her heels and rolled her complaining shoulder. _I swear I'm not that short_, she grumbled, wondering if she should get on the counter or grab a stool.

"Need a hand?"

Head snapping towards the kitchen entrance, Jess saw Jason standing there with a potted plant in his hand and an amused look on his face. She was still trying to figure out what to say when he took it upon himself to set the plant down on the island counter and walk over, brushing past her to grab the bowl she couldn't reach. With him so close, she caught a whiff of his crisp cologne as he set it down and tossed her a casual grin.

"Thanks," was all she said quietly, watching him step away and shove his hands into his pockets.

Her eyes were trained on the spinning lasagna in the microwave while she wished it would hit zero already. What was he doing here? Did Damian know he was here?

Clearing her throat, Jess nonchalantly commented, "Don't think plants are Damian's thing. If you wanted to bring him a gift to make him less mad at you, I'd suggest vegetarian ice cream or a cute animal."

He let out a chuckle. "I know he's not my biggest fan, but last time I checked, the old man still owns this place, not Little D."

Gesturing towards the plant, he added, "It's not for him anyway. Alfie mentioned wanting to spice up the hallways with a little greenery, so…"

"You grab the first one you saw?" Jess stepped closer to the plant to further inspect the yellowish edges of the leaves and dry soil.

"Hey, I'm far from having a green thumb. Just pour a little water in there, and it should be fine in a few days, right?"

"... No, I don't think it works that way."

He stopped next to her, staring at the plant like she was. "Alright, well, you think you could… you know, give it a little life?"

She turned to him, brows furrowed. Had she heard him correctly? "Excuse me?"

Jason's bluish-green eyes were widened in innocence — whether it was genuine, she couldn't tell. "What? Do your powers not work that way?"

Ignoring him, Jess was thankful for the beeping of the microwave; she pulled the container from it and dumped the food into the bowl, feeling his gaze on her. _Oh, they work that way,_ she mused silently… But how would he know? She'd only used her ability in front of him once and in a way that was the complete opposite of giving a living thing life. And it wasn't like she just walked around wielding it all the time.

She was placing the tupperware container in the dishwasher when she heard "Okay, I get it. You don't like using your powers… _or _you're not able to heal. You can only take life—"

"Wrong," Jess cut him off while reaching for her bowl to leave.

But then Jason asked, "Which part? You not liking your powers or how you're only able to harm with them?"

Maybe she should've just ignored him and left the kitchen, but she couldn't help meeting his inquisitive gaze. "Both."

He said nothing for a while, prompting her to sigh and set her food onto the counter next to the plant.

"Only for Alfred. I would hate for him to see this and try to pretend he likes it," she muttered.

"I think we both know he wouldn't pretend."

Not responding, Jess stood in front of the wilting leaves and held a hand above them. She did her best to forget that he was there, watching her, and concentrated on creating a link between herself and the living organism before her. It wasn't quite dying yet, but it definitely felt like it needed care — a few moments later, the leaves were lifting a little, their edges shifting to a healthy green, and the plant as a whole seemed to stand taller compared to the way it'd been slouching previously.

Satisfied, she took her hand back and turned to see Jason giving her an intrigued look and letting out a low whistle.

Before he could say anything, a thought crossed Jess's mind.

"Find out anything else about Jax or the others?"

Her question had seriousness falling across his face like she'd popped his bubble. "I told you not to worry about it," he responded in a lowered voice, eyes darting towards the empty doorway like someone could walk through it at any moment.

He had… but how could she not be curious? That night he'd visited her at her dorm and broke the news about Jax, she'd almost immediately panicked. It'd been one thing to hear the guy was out and a whole other to hear he was actually dead. Gone. Jason had explained that he wasn't sure why Jax had been killed, though it was possible it was just someone with whom he had crossed paths in his criminal life.

"It was probably just some other convict who had it out for him and waited till he got out," he'd suggested. "Everyone else you ran with is still alive and kicking behind bars."

Sure, it was highly possible that Jax had made a lot of enemies in his time, and his sins had caught up to him… but Jess hadn't been able to help worrying if the same could happen to her. After the library incident and starting probation, she'd half-expected Jax or someone else in the group to just suddenly show up and have their revenge on her. She wouldn't have put it past them to escape prison or find a way to be released, but months later, nothing had happened, so she eventually stopped thinking so much about them.

Now, here she was, hearing about Jax's death from Red Hood/Jason, who was telling her she didn't need to fret over it.

"Just figured you should know if you hadn't found out already," he'd told her that night.

Shaking her head and returning to the present moment, Jess gestured towards him. "I can't help wondering about it. How am I supposed to know if whoever killed him is some random guy he did business with years ago? Or maybe it's someone that I also came in contact with when—"

"Doll, I need you to stop right there." Jason's blue-green irises flickered as he held up a hand. "You've been out and about in Gotham for months, and you're still standing.

"Hell, you're dumb enough to go out when it's dark, but no one's put a bullet in your head yet." He caught the way she looked like she was going to protest, holding up a finger and adding, "Except for that one night. You know what I'm talking about."

Jess closed her mouth at that, knowing he was making a point. If anyone wanted her dead or something like it, they surely would have done it by now. As for his comment about her "dumb" behavior… She supposed he was right about that, too. It was probably luck that she hadn't run into anymore trouble since that one instance he'd come to her rescue.

Letting out a sigh, Jason passed a hand over his face and said, "They barely gave the Jax guy a week before they put him down. You've been walking around freely for way longer."

"I just…"

The words wouldn't leave her mouth.

_I just don't want my past catching up to me._

"What is going on here?"

The harsh voice nearly had Jess jumping a foot in the air. Both she and Jason saw Damian entering the kitchen, his emerald gaze scrutinizing them. Guilt flooding her, Jess looked to the older man as if he was going to be able to offer an explanation that would appease his younger brother. But he looked completely unfazed by Damian's appearance, simply moving to grab a glass from the cabinet behind him.

"What's up, short stack?"

Jess couldn't help herself. "'Short stack'? He's basically as tall as you."

He chuckled while grabbing a soda can from the fridge. "Old habit," he answered without looking at her.

"What are you doing here, Todd?"

Damian's face was blank but Jess could see how he was clenching his teeth.

"Old man said I could stop by for dinner, so…" Jason shrugged nonchalantly while opening the can with a hiss that pierced the awkward tension in the kitchen. "Heard it was gonna be Greek food tonight."

"Then if you could, kindly let Father know I won't be there," Damian said stiffly.

Something shifted in Jason's indifferent expression. "Suit yourself."

The young man was turning to leave now but not before shooting Jess an expectant look. Glancing one more time at Jason and seeing that he wasn't even looking at her, she grabbed her bowl and went after her friend. Back in his room, she set it down on his desk and watched as he stood in front of his window, arms crossed and gaze beyond the glass. Was he upset with her? Had he heard any of her conversation with Jason?

"What did he say to you?" he finally asked in a blunt tone.

Sitting in his desk chair and looking at his back that was turned towards her, Jess replied quietly, "Nothing really. He came in, saw that I couldn't reach the bowl up top and got it for me."

"That's all?"

"... Well, the plant he brought in, it was looking kind of half-dead, so…"

That was when Damian turned around, narrowed gaze landing on her. "So…?" he echoed.

Uh-oh. Was she going into dangerous territory here?

Maintaining composure, Jess held his gaze and continued, "He asked me to… 'give it life,' so I did. He said it was for Alfred — the plant, I mean."

He seemed to struggle with processing her words for a moment, glaring at the floor for several moments before moving towards the door. Confused (but mostly concerned), Jess got up and managed to block his path. His brows were knitted while he stared down at her, baffled at her movement.

Though she was suddenly a little intimidated by the height difference and how his emerald greens seemed to be drilling into her, she stood her ground. "Where are you going?"

"To tell him he has no right to be using your abilities like they're some kind of service to be requested," he was quick to answer.

"It's fine," she reassured him, stepping to the side as soon as he tried again to move past her.

Annoyance rose in his features, but Jess didn't budge. "Jessica."

"Damian."

His scowl only deepened — if that were even possible for him. "Move, please."

"No."

Damian's brows rose at her firm response.

"It's not a problem," she told him, gaze flickering between his eyes. "I thought it was weird at first, too, but… All he did was ask for a simple thing that was easy for me to do. I could've said no."

"It's the principle—"

"Sure, but shouldn't I be the one who decides how I use my powers?"

It was satisfying watching how, for once, her friend didn't have such an immediate response like he often did. She could see it in his eyes how he was scrambling to find a way to reply.

"Shouldn't I be the one to decide if someone's using me for what I can do?"

Damian let out a sigh, pressing his lips into a line and breaking eye contact. "Yes, you should be. But that doesn't account for the fact that he is still hanging around here, expecting me to welcome him with open arms… that he is speaking to you when he _knows_—"

He couldn't finish his sentence, but Jess knew what he'd been about to say.

"Maybe he isn't expecting open arms. Maybe he's just expecting… for you to _consider_ giving him open arms," she said slowly, earning a mild look of disbelief from him. "I think he's trying to reconnect with you, Dami."

"And what could lead you to think that?"

"Well… he said he was here for dinner. And he looked kind of disappointed when you said you wouldn't be there."

Scoffing, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "There is no chance Jason Todd is 'disappointed' I won't be around for dinner."

"And what could lead _you _to think that?"

"Because I know him, Jessica," Damian almost snapped, his eyes burning. "He cares about no one but himself. He has some unknown agenda, suddenly showing up in our lives again, and until I find out what it is, I have no desire to be around him. And I still don't want him around you."

Jess fell silent, giving him a moment to collect himself. She couldn't say she was surprised by this reaction, but it hurt her to see it. He was definitely still suffering from what had happened years ago, and she wished there was something she could do to help him. Unfortunately, the only "solution" the teen could come up with was the far-fetched idea that Damian could potentially repair his relationship with Jason. From what she knew, the older man had hardly gotten the chance to really explain himself or try to make amends… because Damian had shut him out so quickly and immediately.

"Okay," Jess offered then. "Let me finish these leftovers and we can... go for a drive or something?"

Damian only nodded, jaw set tightly as he stepped back and away from her. She sat back down at his desk and saw him get comfortable on his bed, reaching out for Neo who'd entered the room. Jess attempted to set aside her growing feelings of concern for her friend as she dug into the lasagna in the bowl, which had already gone cold.

* * *

Dating Kade had been going well for a while — amazingly, even. Aside from the one time he'd told her that he felt like she was being "clingy," things were great: she liked being around him, going on dates, spending time with him and his friends, or simply hanging out at his house. They usually texted often and saw each other every day at school. If there was anything Jess particularly enjoyed about their relationship, it was the attention that he did give her, even if it wasn't as much as she wanted. Whenever he did set aside time for her, he continued to make her feel like he wanted and cared for her, especially when he made efforts to make up for being busy and occupied with other things.

One time, Kade had asked her to meet at his car during their lunch break, telling her he'd wanted to give her 15 minutes of his "undivided attention"... and he certainly had, making Jess thankful that his windows were tinted too dark for anyone to see inside. Situations like that, in which he seemed to want to prove to her that he cared, happened often — he'd text her randomly, saying he was thinking about her, or constantly hold her hand or keep her close whenever they were with his friends or other peers (he'd said he liked making it known that they were an item).

But then things started feeling… different.

Nowadays, he seemed to be more likely to grow irritable and impatient, especially since he wasn't able to get stardust as easily as he used to. Jess could see that he was sleeping less, unable to concentrate for very long on homework let alone anything in general… Plus, it wasn't just stardust — family troubles that he hardly spoke of must have been affecting him, too. He would get distracted, which was pretty unlike him, zoning out or not paying attention to where he was or what they were doing. She was never on the receiving end of this change in behavior, not for a little while. He just brushed it all off, always saying his withdrawals were nothing, that he could handle it, that he was simply tired. Part of her was convinced he was just denying what he was experiencing, but she'd remained silent since she didn't want to upset him or make him feel like he was weak.

That changed one day she decided to keep him company after he'd stayed home from school to rest.

He hadn't slept well, meaning he'd napped throughout the day. He'd also been suffering from a mild headache along with just overall body aches and pain. Jess, still dressed in her uniform but having removed her blazer and loosened her tie, had curled up beside him in his bed.

"You feel nice," he mumbled above her head, arm wrapped around her back. A moment later, Kade added, "I don't know how you do this, going without dust."

She sighed, staring at the wall behind him. "As best as I can, I guess. I've been doing what my therapist has suggested though, you know, like having a better diet, trying to stick to a consistent sleep schedule, yoga."

"Yoga, hmm?"

"Yeah, I've been doing it with Misty and her sister. She's always complaining that she's not flexible enough though," she laughed, "especially when I'm doing a pose she can't do."

"Makes sense. You're definitely the most flexible girl I've ever seen," he told her in a sly tone while squeezing her waist and making her jump.

"Shut up," was all she could say with a chuckle, face burning with both flattery and embarrassment. "Wanna try it with us?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Mm, that's a no from me. I'd just wanna watch you anyway."

"Kade!"

"What?" he asked innocently, moving back to look down at her. "You're setting yourself up for all these. Not my fault."

She feigned a glare despite not really having a problem with his jokes. He was right anyway; she definitely kept giving him opportunities to make dirty remarks. Besides, it wasn't to say that they made her feel bad or negative in any way... No, he managed to make her flustered and turn pink pretty easily. Though she'd never really admit it aloud, moments like these made her feel better about herself.

Reaching for his hand and playing with his fingers, Jess decided to go back to the previous subject. "But seriously, maybe you could try some of this stuff that might help you with these withdrawals. I know you like to eat whatever you want, but even just improving your diet a little bit could make a difference. I've actually learned some easy vegetarian stuff from Damian. There's this pizza we make sometimes — it has tomato, basil, and corn, and it's _really_ good. I can pretty much make it without his help.

"And it took a while to get used to, but I started putting my phone down at least twenty minutes before I want to fall asleep. Damian actually told me to do that, and I think it's been helping me knock out faster and get more sleep…"

She felt Kade shift around, pulling his arm out from underneath her and forcing her to lift her head. He rearranged himself until he was propped up on his pillows, not looking at her. If it hadn't been his sudden change in posture, it would've been the odd, flat look on his face that told her something could've been wrong.

Brows furrowing, Jess sat up and combed her fingers through her tangled hair. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, Jess," he answered, distracting her from her confusion. He wasn't really smiling anymore as he met her eyes. "All I need are painkillers and sleep until I can get my next stash."

"But painkillers are temporary," she responded. "I mean, it's probably not a good idea to take so much and depend on them while—"

"I'll be fine," he asserted again, more firmly this time.

That was all he said. Jess sat there as he crossed his arms and stared across the room. Was she just misreading things or had she done something to annoy him? Discomfort stirring in her chest, she cleared her throat and found herself talking.

In a quiet voice, she tried, "Sorry, I just wanted to help."

He was shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "Babe, I don't need therapy like I have a bunch of issues. I've dealt with worse things than this — it's not the end of the world for me."

Her mouth fell open but nothing came out. He waited for her response, icy blue irises — still a bit bloodshot — boring into her and mouth pressed into a hard line. Heart racing, she swallowed and attempted to process what he'd said.

After a few, painfully-silent moments, Jess asked, "What's wrong with therapy?"

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with therapy. I didn't say that."

"Okay, but you made it sound like someone has to have 'issues' to see a therapist—"

"_No_. I never said that, Jess. I said…" Kade stopped to take a deep breath, his fingers going up to rub his temple. Gesturing with his other hand, he continued, "I don't need therapy like _I _have issues. Not you or anyone else."

Somehow, his explanation didn't make her feel any better and neither did his tone. Jess averted her gaze and threw off the comforter from her body. She didn't say a word as she went to the bathroom and shut the door, leaning over the sink.

There was an internal battle going on inside her head. Part of her wanted to ask more questions about what he'd said and what he'd meant, another part of her desired to snap at him for his attitude… (He'd given her attitude, hadn't he?)... But another, smaller voice in her head said that maybe she was completely wrong and misunderstanding the entire thing. That was a possibility, right?

A knock startled her from her thoughts. After taking a few, slow and deep breaths, she straightened up and opened the door, revealing gray-blue eyes that searched her face. His brows were wrinkled in concern, all the previous irritation gone from his features.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

She simply nodded, prompting him to place one hand at the back of her neck and lift her chin with the other to look up at him.

"I didn't mean anything bad by what I said, okay? I'm just… a little irritable and exhausted, I guess." He tilted his head, still peering at her. "I'll be all good after I get this next stash. Promise."

Leaning her back against the bathroom door frame and crossing her arms, Jess took a moment to contemplate her next words.

"You know… after my parents died, I didn't know what to do with myself. I tried therapy, I tried to distract myself with school, friends, hockey… tried to go back to normal." She let out a humorless chuckle, watching how he looked at her, the wrinkles softening between his brows. "But that normal was gone, right? My new normal was being by myself and my aunt, and so I… I ran.

"I left my aunt's and survived on my own for a while. Did a few questionable things here and there, met this group of people who—"

Jess paused to take a breath, then continued, "They taught me how to fend for myself and do whatever I needed to live better than I had been. Now, I know how to pickpocket, to steal, to escape, to avoid the cops. But I-I never learned how to actually deal with the pain, y'know? I only figured out how to ignore it."

Kade reached out to clasp one of her hands in his, and she stared at their entwined fingers that hung between them, old memories flitting through her mind.

"Stardust and partying did that for me this summer," she continued quietly. "I could finally control my anxiety, the nightmares, the… the _guilt_. I felt like I was catching up on things I should be doing as a teenager. But here I am, still trying to figure things out and start over without doing all of that. I hadn't realized stardust was starting to control _me _until…"

She saw frustrated yet disappointed green eyes as echoes of her friend's harsh, truthful words bounced in her head.

Attempting to smile, Jess squeezed Kade's hand and shrugged. "Anyway... my point is that I don't want to see the same happen to you," she told him, voice lowering to a whisper.

Cool eyes examined her before he was leaning down and kissing her forehead. "Never thought you'd tell me all of that, did you?"

No… no, she hadn't.

But she'd wanted to. She'd always had this idea that he would be the third person to know the last few years of her life, even if it was the general truth and not all the nitty-gritty details were there. Maybe later down the road, Jess would further explain the things she'd done, the people she'd hurt, the power she possessed… but in due time. Even Misty was still in the dark about her being a meta-human, and the only person to whom the teen really felt she could reveal the worst parts of herself — it was Damian. Something about their friendship and the way he cared for her had given Jess the key to unlock her own gates and let him in, and she hoped that she'd soon feel the same way about her other friend and Kade.

She knew the keys were there. It was simply a matter of finding them.

"What sort of things did you do?"

Jess met his eyes, seeing how they were trying to read her. "Things that I regret," was all she could say, averting her gaze.

Before he could say anything else, she added, "Anyway... I do have to get going since Misty will be here soon."

She moved away to head back to his room for her bag when she felt his fingers grasp her upper arm, tugging her back. Alarmed, Jess met his eyes but saw that he was only gazing at her with something like worry in his eyes. It took her a moment to shove aside the surprise and find her voice.

"Kade...?"

Still gripping her, Kade replied softly, "Can you stay?"

There was a pang in her chest at how dejected he sounded… or maybe it was because she was still highly aware of the way he was holding her in place. It might have been both. "I really shouldn't stay the night on a school night…"

"Just for another hour," he seemed to plead with her. "Please."

His eyes, normally cool and easygoing, were almost begging in silence, and she felt her resolve crumble. With a sigh, Jess moved forward and hugged him, feeling his arms wrap around her tightly. He released her arm then to return the embrace and all the negativity felt like it was dissipating from her body and mind at his touch. She breathed in deeply, inhaling his musky aftershave and attempting to let it calm her nerves.

"I just like having you all to myself, you know?" he told her in what sounded like a teasing but also serious tone.

She snorted and pulled back to look up at him, watching how his eyes roamed her face and then landed on her mouth. "You do. I promise," she managed to tell him before he kissed her hard.

And then they'd left it at that. They were fine from then on, Jess writing off the moment as a one-off and figuring it was just a leftover repercussion of his struggle with stardust. But more of these small things kept happening, moments that had her wondering if she was doing something wrong or if his behavior really was changing the way she thought it was.

She'd been with Misty one night when Kade called, asking her to come over and keep him company. When Jess had told him where she was and that she'd just gotten to her friend's house, he seemed to get a bit frustrated at the response.

"My parents get back tomorrow," he'd told her, "which means I'll probably be busy the next couple days and we won't get to hang out or anything. So… it'd mean a lot to me if I get to see you tonight. But if you don't want to, I'll just, I dunno, see you later this week or something."

Unsure of what to say, Jess had tried to reason, "Well… I mean I guess we'll still see each other on campus, right? It's okay if we don't get to spend time together for a few days."

It had apparently been the wrong thing to say.

"I thought you wanted to spend more time with me." He'd sounded annoyed on the other end. "Here I am, telling you that I want to see you before I can't for a while, and suddenly it doesn't matter to you?"

She'd been stunned, torn between feeling guilty and defensive. But ultimately, the teen had made a decision and convinced Misty to drive her to Kade's, promising her friend she'd make it up to her the next day. It'd been worth it though, hadn't it? Because Kade had reacted gratefully, telling Jess that he was glad she'd come over and that she was the best. His hug and grin had made her feel a little bit better about the ordeal, so maybe she'd done the right thing.

So that's what she told herself.

* * *

"Can I ask you about something?"

They were lounging on his bed, both of them on their phones. Misty had just texted her about their plans for later in the week, reminding the brunette that her hockey tryout was coming up. Excitement rising in her, she glanced over to see her boyfriend concentrating on the screen in front of him.

"You're still coming to the tryout, right?"

Kade didn't look up from his phone on which he was furiously texting away. Beside him on the bed and sitting cross-legged with one of his pillows on her lap, Jess glanced at his thumbs and then his face. He didn't still say anything, so she tried again.

"Kade."

"Mmm?"

Gaze still concentrated on the device, he raised his brows a little, a slight indication that he'd heard her.

Absentmindedly playing with the end of the pillow sheet, she chewed at the inside of her cheek and continued to watch him scroll through his phone.

"I know you've been pretty busy, but... You remember that I have tryouts this week, right?" she tried.

That was finally when he tore his cool eyes from his phone and met her gaze, brows knitting together in confusion as his thumbs hovered over the screen mid-typing. "I thought that was next week?"

"No. The first session is Thursday night at 6."

_I'm pretty sure I told you twice._

"Well, shit. Thursday? I need to do some grunt work for Hank."

"Hank?"

"Yeah, the guy who said he managed to find the next supply of dust. Didn't I tell you?"

_No, you didn't._

His hand went for the phone again, making her heart sink into her stomach. Or maybe it was because she hadn't gotten the answer she'd been looking for... plus the mention of stardust.

Another minute or two passed as he started texting again, and Jess found herself waiting to see if the blond would suggest another idea or solution. Instead, the next thing he said had disappointment and even irritation washing through her.

"I probably won't make it... Sorry, babe."

"... Really?"

His eyes flickered up to hers, shifting from their previous nonchalance to confusion. "What?"

Jess forced herself to take a deep breath and figure out how to tread carefully with her words. "I was just... I told you multiple times about it. Did you even make a reminder like you said you would?"

"Jess, I forgot. I've been busy." Kade gestured with his phone. "I would go, but... You know how the city is running low out there."

She opened her mouth to respond when he then added, "I have to get this stuff, considering how hard it is to get my hands on it. Pretty much everyone's assuming it's practically gone — the shit's practically rare now — so I'm really lucky that I found someone willing to sell it to me."

Instantly, she was offended and her throat was tightening up. Was he being serious right now?

"You're kidding, right?" Jess retorted with a look of utter disbelief.

He said nothing, chagrin and annoyance tinting his gaze. "What, do you not want me to get it? Are you wanting me to continue suffering through these god-awful withdrawals or something?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what's the big deal?"

"You promised me you'd be there—"

"I didn't 'promise' you, Jess. I just said I would try to make it there."

No, she was fairly sure he'd told her that he would definitely show up. She cast her mind back to the first and second time she'd brought it up to him, trying to remember exactly what they'd both said. He'd confirmed he would be there, hadn't he?

"I would still appreciate it if you didn't miss out on my tryout for… for your stardust," Jess told him, holding his gaze.

He was silent for a few moments before responding coldly, "And _I _would appreciate it if you realized how much I need this. Unless it doesn't matter to you that getting another supply will help me out? That it's important to me?"

"The _tryout_ is important to _me_, Kade."

His gray-blue eyes flashed as he sat back against his headboard, simply scoffing and shaking his head. It only made her skin crawl even more with irritation, and she found herself biting the inside of her cheek and looking away.

"Okay, so you're... _choosing_ that stupid drug over me," she couldn't help mumbling.

"I'm not 'choosing' anything, okay?" Kade snapped, his voice rising as he gestured with his phone. His eyes were narrowed and blazing with exasperation. "I've got something important and so do you. That's how life goes."

Her heart was beating rapidly, and the only thing she wanted to do was... She didn't even know. The frustration was hot and rising quickly in her; she knew that if this went any further, it wouldn't be good for either of them.

He suddenly got up from the bed, turning to look down at her. "I can't function without it, Jess," he told her in a low, shaky voice. "I thought you understood that. It's the only thing that—"

She watched as he fell silent abruptly, distress tightening his figure while he reached up to run both hands through his hair. "It's all I have to keep me… _sane_."

Without thinking, Jess responded, "So how come you've never thought about getting help?"

Cold eyes stared at her for so long that she wasn't sure he'd answer.

"I don't need it," he told her between gritted teeth. "There's nothing I need help with, Jess."

"That's what I thought back when I was using it, too, and then—"

"And then what? You got better? Damian Wayne gave you a couple recipes and told you to get to bed earlier, and now you're magically cured?"

Brows knitting together at his mention of her friend, she defended, "N-no. _No_. Damian convinced me that stardust was going to ruin my life..."

Kade's jaw was clenched. "So you believed him because, what, he's the resident expert on dust?"

She couldn't even respond. How had they gotten to arguing about this? She'd thought that part of the summer was in the past and that Kade completely understood her decision to quit the drug. Why was it being brought up now?... And with Damian's name?

The words were out of her mouth without a thought: "Because he's my best friend, and he cares about me."

Cold, gray-blues eyes burned into her. Anger sparked across his face as he stepped towards her where she still sat on the bed. "Last time I checked, Jess, you still feel guilty for all the shit you pulled after running away. Last time I checked, you _still_ don't feel like you deserve to be here."

All the oxygen seemed to just disappear from the room. Jess stared at him, mouth open, hardly registering the look of distaste he gave her before starting to pace where he stood.

Looking her up and down, Kade added, "From where I'm standing, you're just as fucked up as I am… maybe more. So you don't get to sit there and act like you have your shit together any more than I do."

Her temper shot through the roof, making tears spring to her eyes as she scrambled to get to her feet and face him. "How dare you say that to me?" Jess's voice trembled despite how desperately she tried to be composed. "How the hell c-can you _say_ that to me?"

He only shook his head in disbelief and moved to brush past her. It took every quivering muscle in her body and will in her mind to not try and stop him, but only moments had passed by the time she gave in. She found him standing by the front door, car keys in his hand and meeting her gaze.

Blood pounding in her ears, she only had to watch him tilt his head once towards the door to know what he was saying.

It felt like eternity, the drive back to Gotham Academy. Kade played the radio loudly, probably to drown out his thoughts (and maybe hers, too) and neither of them spoke. Once he pulled up in front of her dorm building, Jess couldn't help racking her brain for something to say... something, anything that would get him to understand, to make things better.

"I just… All I wanted to know was if you were going to show up for me," she said in a low voice.

Kade exhaled sharply from the driver seat, glaring out his windshield.

"Get out."

Hurt burned through her, rendering her speechless as Jess blinked at him.

"Jessica. Get out of my car."

Vision blurring with tears, she moved to open the door and step out when she heard something that he muttered under his breath, four words that almost stopped her then and there.

"Such a fucking headache..."

She shut the door and, though she couldn't see through the dark window, something told her he wasn't even looking at her. Kade drove off, leaving her standing on the pavement and holding back tears.

* * *

**Note: **honestly, i felt so bad/guilty reading what you guys were expressing about Kade, especially when I was literally in the middle of writing this chapter's drama with him... yikes lol. i apologize 100x for the high emotions this update might have stirred in you... there's, uh, more coming though xD

thank you tons for your love and reviews! i'm always grateful for every single one. and BecomingFearless1F, that was so kind :') "Arrow" and "Flash" were my fave CW shows, so i really appreciate that comment *insert crying emoji* and to answer your question, Tim will most certainly show up! i already know when i'm bringing him in, and we're slowly but surely making our way to that point :)

i have most of the next two(?) updates written, so those should be up sooner than later. i'm super eager to share what's coming next — just gotta clean it up and make it really good for your consumption, you know?

until next time! xx


	34. The Price of Forgiveness

cw: abuse; suggestive themes

* * *

"_Why do nice people choose the wrong people to date?"_

"_We accept the love we think we deserve."_

"_Can we make them know we deserve more?"_

"_We can try."_

_~ Stephen Chbosky, "The Perks of Being a Wallflower"_

* * *

**Chapter 34: The Price of Forgiveness**

Making it onto the hockey team was one sliver of good news to hold her over for the next week. Since that unfortunate argument with Kade, it had been difficult doing, well, anything. No matter how hard she tried to focus on her schoolwork, distract herself by spending time with Misty or Damian, throw herself into the multiple tryout sessions at the local rink, practice on the ice by herself, her mind always landed in the same place.

"_From where I'm standing, you're just as fucked up as I am… maybe more."_

Had he really meant all those hurtful things he'd said? Not only had his words been so unexpected and malicious, but just his behavior in general felt without rhyme or reason. Everything about that night had felt like a verbal attack and defense in one. What had she done to warrant such backlash?

At school, he ignored her just like he did with her texts and calls. His eyes skimmed over her whenever they happened to be in the same vicinity, and he laughed with his friends as if nothing was wrong. Every time, it had her stomach twisting into knots of discomfort, wondering how long they would go being like this. It did nothing to help the anxiety that, in itself, was already unhelpful; she kept asking the same questions over and over again, struggling to reassure herself since he wasn't. And it wasn't like she wanted to turn to anyone else either — Misty was pretty much tuned in to what had happened, telling Jess that what the blond had said and done wasn't okay.

"Prioritizing stardust over you was shitty of him," she'd said.

As for Damian… well, he didn't know a thing. She'd done her best to act normal around him because she just _knew_ that if he found out even a single detail about the argument, he would say things she didn't want to hear, maybe even _do_ things she didn't want him to. Worst case scenario was that he would likely confront Kade himself.

And why would Jess want her friend to do that?

A little over a week after the unfortunate event, she was walking to class and listening to music with the new headset Misty had gifted her for her birthday. The volume was up to drown out any chatter or bothersome noise that she might encounter while traversing the hallways, so she didn't hear her name being called.

A hand closed around her upper arm, startling the brunette, but when she whipped around to snap at whomever it was, Jess took in the familiar, gray-blue eyes and felt the words stop in her throat.

"Jess," Kade said — more like mouthed since she couldn't hear him.

Pausing the music and hanging the headphones around her neck, she avoided his gaze and merely stood there. At this end of the hallway, it was just the two of them with no other students around. Kade was speaking up again, his voice quiet.

"I miss you."

Something pulled in her chest at his words, but Jess didn't say anything, unsure of what to say. She'd missed him, too, hadn't she? Despite how hurt their altercation had left her, that didn't mean she hadn't wished they were okay and hanging around each other, holding hands.

"Did you get in?"

Taking a deep breath, she decided to finally look at him. His cool eyes were examining her, making her skin crawl with familiar tingles that he'd always given her. "Yeah, I did."

Shifting on his feet, he said, "Look… Can we start over? Pretend that day never happened?"

Pretend? Could she really do that?

"I don't know, Kade," she answered softly, biting the inside of her cheek and playing with the ring on her finger. "I still don't understand how all of that even happened. I don't get—"

_I don't get what went wrong._

Her throat was tightening up, and she fought against it by swallowing hard and inhaling deeply. Against her will, her mind was reliving that day, showing her the irritation that had contorted his face and reminding her of the upsetting words he'd said.

"_Last time I checked, you _still _feel guilty for all the shit you pulled after running away."_

The worst part had to be the fact that he wasn't wrong. _Of course_ she continued to harbor remorse about her wrongdoings, and yes, she often reminded herself that she was only here in Gotham because of Damian and Bruce, that she had to make her last school year worth their generosity. Jess thought about it nearly every day.

He stepped closer, taking her hand in his. The gesture had her heart thumping irregularly. "Let's just not worry about it, okay? Emotions got too high, and… I said things that I don't mean."

A tear was escaping despite her initial hope that she wouldn't cry. Jess hastily wiped at it with her free hand, not meeting his gaze. "What you said was pretty messed up, you know."

"I do know, Jess. I do," he urged her softly, fingers reaching to brush her hair from her face.

Instinctively, she moved away from his touch. She knew there was no way she could find it in herself to forgive him on the spot like this… even if his touch and attention were undeniably inviting. At her shying from his hand, Kade took her chin and made her face him — his fingers were grasping her gently, but Jess felt an urge to detach herself.

"I'll make it up to you," Kade was saying then, his eyes seeming to hold her in place like his hand was. "It was just a big misunderstanding, alright? You got in like you wanted, and I got what I needed. That's all that matters. We'll be fine."

Would they?

Before she could ask him, he was cupping her face in his hands and training his icy gaze on her. For some reason, the movement initiated a swarm of butterflies in her stomach, but he was soon giving her an earnest look, his voice having dropped to a pleading whisper.

"We'll be okay, babe. It won't happen again… Please?"

His skin was warm against her cheeks. The way he was looking at her plus the idea of making up and actually being happy again… Tears were stinging her eyes, and she knew that she wanted nothing more than for their relationship to be mended. She couldn't handle being ignored anymore, not having his lips on hers, experiencing his hand in hers or around her waist.

Those damned blue-gray eyes were imploring, and the wrinkles between his brows only made him look hopeful. The idea of hurting him, breaking that look on his face… He did look considerably better in health than he had in previous weeks. Obviously his new supply of stardust was treating him well, which meant his mood was in higher spirit, too. Maybe that had contributed to him reaching out to her to patch things up?

"I still want you."

And so did she.

Kade didn't hesitate after she nodded; he leaned down and kissed her, in turn releasing the tears she'd been holding back. He planted kisses across her face before wiping away the wetness and smiling crookedly at her.

"That's my girl," he said softly, sending shivers through her.

"I don't want you to talk to me like that again," Jess admitted, unable to control the trembling in her voice.

He shook his head. "Never again. I promise."

A thought crossed her mind. "Do you… Do you really believe I'm 'fucked up'?"

Sighing, Kade raised a brow and answered, "Honestly, aren't we all? In one way or another?"

Her eyes fell to his tie as she contemplated this. She supposed he was right in a sense… but that didn't make her feel much better about what he had said.

"But if it's any consolation, my feelings for you are the same. I know that what I said hurt you, but at the end of the day… you're still the best thing that's ever happened to me."

And then, with his thumb running along her lips, eyes trained steadily on her, he added, "I don't ever want to lose you, Jess."

"Then you should probably act like it."

"Of course," he answered with a slight grin. "I was just getting started falling in love with you."

The smile that had been growing on her face wavered. She stared at him, barely registering the chuckle he gave at her reaction. _Did I hear him correctly?_

"You…You're—what?" she tried to say, her mouth stuttering as badly as her brain was.

"Shh. Don't worry about it," was all he said before pressing his lips against hers again.

And just like that, Jess was willing to forget the insults, the harsh jabs at her insecurities and worries, the anger in his cold eyes, all the confusion and hurt she'd been left with. Because those sorts of things were bound to happen, right? These were the ups and downs of relationships, testaments of their dedication to each other and willingness to make something like this work. But even as everything seemed to go back to normal, Kade giving her all the affection in the world like he'd always done, winking at her from across a classroom or kissing her forehead, Jess found that there was a little voice of doubt bothering her in the back of her mind.

It could've easily been anxiety or unnecessary worry, maybe it was something more serious than that — but either way, she ignored it. How could she question things between them when they were on the edge of falling into something deeper than what she had first expected?

So much for not forgiving him on the spot.

* * *

Since that encounter with his older brother and father in the cave, the former assassin had found himself facing doubtful thoughts and feelings about his long-standing bitterness. If it weren't that day making him nearly second-guess the bad blood between them, it was what Jess had said to him previously.

"I think he's trying to reconnect with you," she'd told him.

And he'd dismissed the idea, confident that there was no possibility the older man would consider such a thing. Jason Todd was not the kind of person who cared enough to mend broken relationships and apologize first.

Or was he?

He'd spent nearly every day at war with himself, justifying a decision to continue ignoring his brother yet considering what it would be like to put his resentment aside. Could he overlook their past and finally forgive him? It certainly hadn't helped — or perhaps it had — when Dick was quick in his attempt to convince Damian that forgiveness was long overdue.

"I think I could spend a few more years loathing his existence."

"I'm sure you could, Dami," Dick said during the video call, his face taking up the entire laptop screen. "But the question is: do you _want_ to do this for much longer? Sounds tiring to me."

From where he sat in his chair, Damian remained silent. Part of him wanted to answer immediately that yes, he did want to withhold any chances of granting Jason clemency. He wanted his brother to suffer, knowing he'd broken his trust and hurt him. Another, smaller voice echoed Dick's sentiment though, asking if the pool of constant negativity and hatred was worth living in. It was a voice he yearned to silence and do away with, but it was adamant in the same way Dick was being.

"Forgiving him isn't just for him, you know. It's for you, too. You don't deserve to be walking around, carrying that grudge and all the negativity with it."

"And what about what he deserves? He deserves to be—"

Pixelated, blue eyes rolled at him. "I know what you think he deserves. But don't you think he's been punished enough? Have you thought about the guilt that _he's _had to carry?"

Clenching his jaw, Damian glared at his desk. The idea of letting the pressure off Jason, allowing him to believe that what he'd done was forgivable and not shameful… It felt wrong.

Yet when the young man expressed this, Dick only sighed in exasperation. Even on a screen and at a funny angle, he managed to communicate his frustration with the way he looked at Damian, eyes heavy with seriousness.

"Dami… Forgiving Jason doesn't mean you're saying what he did was okay or that you'll pretend it never happened," the older man explained. "None of us can pretend that night never happened. It affected all of us."

Before he could sit for a few moments and process Dick's words, he was adding, "I'm pretty sure him showing up after all this time means he wants his little brother back… Don't you?"

Perhaps if he'd asked a year ago or even six months before now, Damian would have been quick to say no. He would have turned his nose up at such an awful question, spouting his hopes and desires that Jason understood his new place as a former brother, banished from Damian's circle. Never again would they have any sort of relationship, he would say.

This was now. And despite his expertise in keeping unwanted emotions at bay, Damian was aware of a tug within him, a knock at the walls withholding all the sensations he refused to feel. Memories, bitter and sweet, vague and vivid, seemed to force their way into his mind — blue-green eyes flashed at him mischievously while the 11-year-old chased him around the manor after a prank; his annoying snicker echoed at a dry remark Tim had made; rough hands ruffled his hair on a Christmas morning; his voice, normally aloof, sounded far away and small in the second voicemail he'd left after the incident.

"I know talking to me is the last thing you wanna do, but I… I fucked up, Damian. I know that I really, really fucked up."

Damian _had _known his older brother carried that guilt with him and that there was a reason why he'd spent the last two years unyielding in his bitterness… Dick seemed to understand as well.

"Have you even forgiven _yourself_ for what happened?"

No, he hadn't.

The former assassin didn't need anymore guidance from Dick to recognize what he was saying: he had never reprieved himself of losing Irene, so he'd taken his own blame and guilt and forced it upon his brother. Jason had been named as the only man to take on all that weight with Damian hellbent on making him pay for it… because he hadn't successfully found a way to do it on his own.

It wasn't very fair, was it?

Their video call ended with Dick expressing his hope that Damian would find it in himself to let it go, and Damian was left with self-doubt and more pressure against his mental walls. He allowed bits and pieces of their conversation to sit in the back of his mind for several days, preparing for the next time he did see Jason. Would he turn away like he always did or unlock a door he'd barred for years? As easy as it would be to do the former, he knew that he would be exchanging more hatred for convenience.

At this point, Damian wasn't quite sure he wanted to continue paying that price.

* * *

Jason had shown up unexpectedly (again) and this time, with pizza instead of a plant. Damian's initial response had been the same as usual, the narrowing of his gaze, a reflexive wave of tension through his limbs… yet it had been followed by hesitation that hadn't been there before.

He was in the middle of debating his reaction to Jason's appearance when his friend showed up shortly after he'd answered the door. Her curious gaze flickered between the two as they headed to the kitchen and Jason pointed out that the food was from Joe's Pizzeria, a staple from Damian's memories growing up. It had been one of the family's favorites over the years.

Hmm. Was there some hidden reason he'd gone out of his way to do this?

"Old man and Alfie back yet? Figured some takeout would let them off the hook for tonight."

Had his father been the one to invite him over again?

"No, they're not."

"Got your favorite," he casually said to his younger brother, pushing the aromatic box towards him. "And Jess, I heard you're a fan of their garlic knots."

Jess looked first at Damian as if awaiting instruction, then responded, "You could say that."

Silent, Damian reached for the box and opened it, laying his eyes upon the vegetarian pizza he'd loved in his early teen years. Despite how great it smelled and the fact that they hadn't made plans for dinner, he found himself still struggling to settle on a decision.

"That _is_ still your favorite, right?" Jason wasn't looking at him as he organized the boxes across the counter.

Straightening up and closing the lid on the box, Damian merely said, "I appreciate the gesture, but I have no appetite."

He was making his way to leave the kitchen when he heard a chipper "Well, I do."

To his annoyance, Jess was retrieving a plate from the cabinet and then reaching for the small container of garlic knots that Jason had opened. The older man was watching with amusement, and his gaze briefly flickered to Damian, who was in turn narrowing his eyes at her. He'd been expecting the teen to follow him out of the kitchen. What was she doing?

"Take it upstairs with—"

"I'm just gonna eat real quick here," Jess interrupted dismissively as she sat on a stool. "That okay?"

She finally met his bewildered gaze, and Damian could easily read what she was saying with her eyes. As much as he wanted to resist and perhaps even drag her out of the kitchen if that's what it came to… he exhaled sharply and went to sit beside her. Jason, who had been silent (though Damian had a strong feeling he was laughing silently to himself), went about his business, gathering his own plate of food along with a bag of chips that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

Jess pulled not one but two slices of the vegetarian pizza onto her plate. Damian raised a brow at her when she scooted it towards him, gesturing to it with a garlic knot in her hand.

_Come on_, her eyes seemed to say. _It's okay._

He couldn't determine if he was embarrassed or irritated. Perhaps he was neither. It was clear his friend was trying to reel him in, help him navigate his strong feelings about Jason being at the manor yet again. Calm, hazel eyes held inquisitive, green ones, unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

"Don't be stubborn," she then said quietly, unfazed by the scowl he gave her.

Jason let out a chuckle from where he stood across the kitchen. "'Stubborn' is one of his many middle names," he commented before opening his bag of chips.

A cold remark was at the tip of Damian's tongue when Jess rolled her eyes. "Oh, I know."

Another glowering look from the former assassin that had no effect on the teen; she simply appeared to biting back a smile while standing to get a glass of water.

"Speak for yourself," was all Damian could say before reluctantly reaching for the slice of pizza.

"So how'd you two meet?" Jason asked, splitting an interested gaze between the two.

"The library," Jess answered at the same time Damian replied, "It's none of your business."

Her eyes widened at the frustrated glare shot in her direction. They were most certainly not on the same page, and her willingness to entertain Jason's presence was nothing short of aggravating.

Turning his attention back to his food, Jason shrugged and said, "We can just pretend I didn't ask."

Damian, whose gaze was still on his friend, stood from his stool, about to demand that he speak with her in private. But Jess's phone suddenly rang and she was quick to answer it, averting her eyes. He could tell by the "Hi" she gave that it was Kade. Shaking his head, he went to rinse the plate in the sink.

"I dunno. It's been a while since I have," he heard Jess say behind him. A pause, then, "I'm pretty sure she's gonna be a witch or something generic. I don't remember what she said."

It sounded as if they were discussing Halloween, a holiday he hadn't cared to participate in in a few years. Amused, Damian continued placing the dishware in the dishwasher as he kept listening. From where he sat, Jason was tilting his head back and dumping the remaining contents of the chips bag in his mouth.

"Harley Quinn?" Jess echoed as she gazed down at the counter, phone pressed to her ear. "Yeah, I don't know how I feel about dressing up as a criminal for Halloween."

Brows raised, Damian straightened up to look at her just as there was a coughing sound — Jason appeared to be hacking on his food, chip crumbs all over the counter in front of him as he thumped at his chest. Yet the young man could tell his older brother wasn't genuinely choking, not when there was laughter in his bright eyes as they locked gazes across the kitchen.

Jess had shot Jason a confused look before responding to Kade again. "Do you know how many girls are probably all gonna be Catwoman, too?"

Another strangled noise had both Jess and Damian watching Jason spit up water from the glass at his mouth. He set it down and covered his mouth with his sleeve, gaze averted and clearly attempting to conceal his laughter. The teen stared at him in awe before looking at Damian, who was, admittedly, biting the inside of his cheek in an effort to remain composed. When she mouthed "Why's he laughing?" he could only shrug and watch as she rolled her eyes at Jason, getting up to leave the kitchen.

As soon as she rounded the corner, the older man was grinning impishly and Damian shook his head, tossing a hand towel at him.

"You're such a child."

Blue-green eyes filled with humor flashed in his direction while he proceeded to wipe at his mess on the counter. "Calm down, demon brat. I saw how badly you wanted to laugh, too. Shit's funny and you know it."

"There was nothing funny about it," Damian denied while crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

"Really? You saw nothing hilarious about your friend's boyfriend saying she should dress up as Harley or our dear stepmom for Halloween?"

"_Keep your voice down, _Todd…"

Jason rolled his eyes before taking another gulp from his glass. "She's not gonna hear a damn thing. You know that Kade kid is just hyping her up on the other end of the line, talking about how he knows she's gonna look good in a catsuit or jester outfit."

He took notice of Damian's silence, glancing up to see that the former assassin was glaring daggers at him. Raising his hands in innocence, he backtracked, "Sorry. Touchy subject, I see."

_No, it isn't._

Yet the strange discomfort in his chest and limbs made him feel doubtful of his own words. What should he care that Kade was most likely saying such things as Jason suggested? It wouldn't be unordinary for him as Jess's boyfriend and the teenage boy he was… On the other hand, Damian had known their relationship had made him slightly uncomfortable from the beginning. He'd immediately disapproved of it based on his established feelings about the blond, and even after agreeing to tolerate it for her sake, something about it continued to dig under his skin. It could have been his stubbornness to fully accept that they were together, it might have had something to do with his suspicion about how he treated her, or possibly…

"I take it you're not his biggest fan," Jason mused nonchalantly. "I mean, I think I get it. I don't really know much about the kid, but from what I've seen, there's something about him—"

"He reminds me of you," Damian deadpanned.

The older man paused mid-bite for a moment before following through with the action. Damian could feel his gaze on him as he finished cleaning up, putting away Jess's glass and consciously avoiding meeting his brother's eyes. He was moving towards the entryway when he heard Jason speak up again.

"Yeah, I can see why you probably hate his guts then."

* * *

"Definitely the best Harley of the night!"

Jess glanced up to see a girl dressed up in a bright red devil costume beaming at her. Returning the smile, she shouted over the thumping rap music, "Thank you! I love your costume, too."

It was one of many compliments she'd gotten throughout the night, something she knew she couldn't complain about, especially considering how much effort she and Kade had put into their outfits. He'd convinced her that the costume made perfect sense for them as a couple, and she'd ended up agreeing (mostly because she really didn't have any other ideas, not when she hadn't participated in Halloween in years). Sure, it was a little weird dressing up as actual criminals who had a long history of terrorizing Gotham, but the blond had practically begged her.

"You and I will make the best Joker and Harley, babe," he'd said with that crooked grin of his. "Obviously way better looking though."

So Jess had enlisted Misty's help and gone all out with a blonde wig in pigtails, dyed blue and pink at the ends (she was _not _going to bleach her own locks blonde) and a matching two-piece, jester-inspired outfit that was… well, revealing. The shorts were unbelievably _short_ and the sleeveless top exposed part of her midriff, but thankfully the jacket offered a little bit of warmth. It was getting considerably colder in Gotham, and part of her was regretting dressing up in such minimal clothing. A few times, she'd accidentally reached up to rub at or itch her eye, forgetting she was wearing more makeup than usual, and she was leaving lipstick stains on her cups.

But at least all this effort was turning out to be worth it, right?

A hand touching her bare, lower back had Jess jumping a little. Kade's white-painted face appeared, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Getting yourself something to drink?" he asked, raising his voice over the music and laughter.

Admittedly, his characteristic grin seemed to work well with the costume. The red marks drawn outward from the corners of his mouth accentuated each time that he smiled or laughed. His ice-colored eyes, surrounded by dark eyeshadow, appeared brighter, but maybe that was just the alcohol, stardust, and Halloween spirit he was running on for the night. A strand of hair that he'd sprayed green had fallen from where it was slicked back, hanging over his forehead.

"Here," he then said, handing her the plastic cup he'd been holding. "Oh wait. I think this one's got dust in it."

Jess allowed him to pour her a new cup of vodka and soda, silently grateful he'd remembered that the drug was in the drink. She didn't even want to imagine what would've happened if she'd taken even a sip or two.

Peter's tall figure brushed past a few teenagers bunched up at the kitchen entryway, waving the two of them down. Dressed comically in a cheap Superman costume he'd bought the day before, Kade's friend called, "Let's take some pictures outside!"

She had to blink away lingering bright spots after a few minutes of their peers taking turns posing in front of the house. They'd gotten a lot of drunken shouts of support when Kade asked someone to take photos of just the two of them, especially when he kissed her without warning, one hand at the back of her neck and the other at her lower back. Needless to say, it was a little bit embarrassing, but Jess knew she should've been used to his conspicuous displays of affection by now.

Besides, she didn't really have any desire to protest against her boyfriend's touchiness and how often he was paying attention to her tonight. It made flutters rise in her stomach, the way he had her sit in his lap or randomly slid an arm around her bare waist. Even if he was busy talking to someone else, Kade made sure she felt seen and acknowledged… and she wouldn't have asked for anything more. At one point, he'd slung his arm around her shoulders to tell her something in her ear that simply reaffirmed what he'd said the day they reconciled.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I can't keep my hands off you when you look like that."

Oh, she'd noticed.

Contentment stirring in her (with the help of the little bit of alcohol in her system), Jess split off from Kade to find Misty. Her friend, dressed head-to-toe as a magician with a cape and hat, didn't fail to notice her good mood.

Raising a brow, she asked, "Kade still on good behavior?"

Jess couldn't blame her for asking but was glad to give her an answer that was honest and positive. "So far, so good!" she called over the pop song filling the house.

Later, she attempted to navigate her way through dancing bodies to find her boyfriend. Several teens were stopping her to say hi or compliment her costume, but she never paused long enough to talk and have a full conversation, not when she was on a determined search. Kade wasn't outside nor was he in the packed living room or kitchen, so she wandered towards the back of the house where his room was. He happened to be leaving, shutting the door behind him, but before she could catch his attention, Jess watched as two girls left the bathroom and nearly ran into him.

Olivia and Mara, both friends of Kade, were dressed as cops, their outfits barely reaching mid-thigh. Though she couldn't read any of their lips or hear what they were saying, she could certainly recognize the body language being displayed: Mara was stepping towards Kade, reaching to pull at the lapel of his blazer, and Olivia brushed back the strands of hair at his temple.

Confusion rose in Jess at the sight. What were they doing?

The two girls laughed at something her boyfriend said, an unimpressed expression on his face. That made Jess breathe a little more easily — he clearly wasn't welcoming whatever was going on there.

But then Kade was grinning as Mara's hand, still on his lapel, found its way to his shirt and trailed a few inches down his chest with her other hand holding up fake cuffs from her belt. Beside her, Olivia was giggling and pushing his shoulder playfully. Jess stood there, oblivious to the bodies bumping into her, for what felt like a very long, long minute, her ears starting to ring and lungs feeling tight.

Why wasn't he stepping away from them? Why wasn't he dismissing their touchy hands and gestures? What were they even saying? Didn't those two know Kade was not an available guy? (Yes, they _did_ know. Jess had actually hung out with them a few times.)

She needed air.

The night was cold and crisp as she walked through the front door, ignoring the small groups of people huddled nearby. Above her, the sky was pitch black and cloudless. It was difficult to see the stars that she knew were there, but Jess vaguely noted that she'd definitely be able to see them at the manor.

She found herself texting him and saying she was going to have Misty take her home. Instead of asking why, he asked where she was, and they met in his room a minute later.

Closing the door and shutting out most of the party noise, he turned to her with concern in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just not feeling all that great," Jess lied smoothly, not meeting his gaze.

"Did you drink too much or…?"

"No, I barely had anything. I just have a headache and need to lie down."

"Well, you can rest in here if you want—"

She shook her head. "I mean away from all this noise, Kade. I kind of want to be in my own bed. I think… I think I'm done for the night."

His hands were at her waist then, pulling her closer as he insisted, "Hey, it's barely midnight. I don't want you to leave. Plus, I was hoping you'd stay the night…"

She had to resist shying away from his fingers moving to the back of her neck. His touch didn't feel right, as much as it pained her to think it. An image of Olivia reaching up to touch his hair flashed in her mind, making Jess's chest constrict uncomfortably.

"You sure I can't make you feel better?" he asked mischievously before planting his mouth under her ear.

Gently pushing him away, she steeled her nerves and said, "I—sorry. Not tonight. I'm really tired, okay?"

Maybe it was just her imagination but she could've sworn his eyes flickered with annoyance or something like it. Before she could consider it, she found herself adding, "But maybe tomorrow."

It was odd, this desire to appease him and reduce any possibility he would get upset with her… but dealing with any negative response from him was the last thing she wanted to do tonight.

"Damn, okay." Kade gave her a lopsided grin, clearly welcoming the suggestion.

And so they left his room, nothing but an unpleasant mix of uneasiness and alcohol churning in her stomach. She scanned the room as he went off to the kitchen, eyes landing on Olivia and Mara who were standing in the corner and laughing loudly with a group of boys dressed as criminals in black-and-white-striped ensembles. The former looked around and met Jess's gaze, smiling at her and giving a small wave. Jess managed to return the gestures but not before turning away and finding it difficult to breathe.

She had been so nice, especially upon their first meeting. Olivia had even expressed interest in showing up for one of Jess's first hockey games…

Working to ignore the turmoil in her mind, she selected the first contact in her phone that she had on speed dial, eager to be out of this ridiculous outfit and in bed.

* * *

He knew something was wrong when she climbed into his car, dressed in a costume that was, in his opinion, incredibly distasteful and outrageous. That was his first thought at least, despite knowing her plans to spend Halloween prancing around as a deranged villain, yet the second sentiment to cross his mind was more of a feeling… an accidental reaction that should have been a mere observation and nothing more.

Green eyes fell first to the skin of her abdomen that was exposed for all to see, then to her legs that were also bare. The material of the costume, from the top to the shorts and thigh-high socks, was distinctly form-fitting — he could only imagine the eyes she'd attracted tonight, which settled a bundle of discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

That was when Damian was reminded that there was a Joker to her Harley, and he found himself instantly miffed at what the blond must have been thinking when he saw her in this outfit. As Jess's friend, he was allowed to be protective of her and the male gaze, wasn't he? Including her own boyfriend?

The peculiar sensations in his heart and the tightening of his fingers on the wheel suggested something different. Yet he was quick to shelve those thoughts and feelings as Jess laid back in the passenger seat with a sigh. Beneath the heavy makeup and messy red lipstick, she appeared tired and distracted.

"I thought you would have stayed the whole night."

As he shifted into drive, she shrugged and looked out the window. "I thought so, too, but I guess I'm outgrowing these parties or something. Growing up, maybe?"

"Misty didn't want to take you home?"

"She would have, but I told her to stay and enjoy the night. So thanks for letting me interrupt whatever you were doing." She tossed him a smile that was teasing but didn't quite reach her eyes.

Damian shrugged. "I wasn't doing anything important."

Even if he had been in the middle of something remotely meaningful, he likely would have come for her anyway.

He walked her up to her dorm room, contemplating the possibility of asking what was really on her mind. There were plenty of things that could be the source of her distracted behavior, though it was also likely she simply hadn't enjoyed herself at the party. Still, Damian couldn't help considering how quiet she had been during the car ride. Perhaps he was being overly observant when she was merely in need of rest, or—

"Do you wanna stay and watch a scary movie or something?" she asked, opening the door to the dorm.

"You don't like horror movies," he stated with a raised brow as he followed her in.

"Yeah, but it's Halloween. Gotta do something festive, right? Plus, you're here. I wouldn't watch by myself."

She immediately pulled off the blonde wig, wincing and mumbling to herself about how uncomfortable and sweaty her head felt. Damian took a seat at her desk, watching as she attempted to remove the bald cap her hair had been stuffed into. It was certainly amusing, the lengths she had gone to in order to emulate one of Gotham's worst. (Part of him wondered what his father's reaction would be if he saw how Jess had decided to spend Halloween. And Jason… He could see and hear the fit of laughter now.)

A few minutes passed as Jess shut herself in the bathroom to shower, but then she was exiting with a frustrated grimace on her face. She was no longer wearing the jacket, her loose, knotted hair falling over her bare shoulders and back.

"My hair is stuck in the zipper," she told him with an exhausted eye roll, turning around to show him.

He stood and crossed the room to stand behind her. His hands brushed against her skin as he carefully released the strands of hair from the top of the zipper, and an odd burning or tingly feeling had started in his fingertips.

"Can you also undo the choker please?"

Jess reached up to gather her hair and pull it aside so he could find the clasp. In the process, his eyes landed on a small mole at the slope where her neck met her shoulder blade. He'd never seen it before since it had always been covered by her hair or clothing, and with this much of her skin exposed… it only made sense. Though he undid the clasp with ease, Damian thought he caught his fingers trembling ever so slightly.

Him, shaking?

He had to work to dismiss the strangeness of it all as she hurried back into the bathroom. The girl that returned was not the teenage Harley Quinn that had entered before — to his relief — because it was only Jess, bare-faced with damp hair and wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Yet even as they arranged themselves on her bed with the laptop and Otis the Octopus in her arms, Damian was highly aware of how close they were. Not that it was out of the ordinary for her to lay her head against his shoulder or wrap her arms around his bicep — no, it was the hypervigilance with which he spent the rest of their night, conscious of every time she touched him and each whiff of fresh lavender and other pleasant smells. It absolutely didn't help that she buried her face into his arm when she was frightened, laughing at herself, and, not even halfway through the movie, had ended up curled against his side with her knees nearly in his lap.

Damian was hardly an unstable, _trembling_ sort of person — far from it, really — but that night had him questioning his own inner balance.

What was it about Jess that had him feeling… unsteady?

* * *

Making her feel better the next day, just like they'd discussed, was exactly what Kade did. In fact, with each day that passed, Jess relied on that undeniable ability of his to make her feel wanted. She took every opportunity that would give her reassurance and reinforce the idea that he had eyes for her and her only, savoring his plentiful displays of affection. Her mentality had changed from now on when they were intimate; she wanted more than ever to feel like he was hers and she was his, that there was nothing else to worry about that could threaten what they had. Of course, Kade didn't complain about it at all, glad to receive her increased willingness to fool around in an empty classroom or spend half their lunch break in the back of his car.

Unfortunately, Jess knew better than to believe her willful ignorance would make the doubt go away. She couldn't stop thinking about what she'd witnessed on Halloween, and there was only so much she could do to rationalize it. Not even her therapist had to tell her that she had to voice her concerns and tell Kade how she felt. As much as she enjoyed the physical relationship they had and the way he'd been treating her in general, there was nothing about her worry that could be solved by having his hand around her neck or his teeth on her skin.

So despite how desperately she wanted to prove that he wasn't in danger of being snatched out of her grip, to prove that he only wanted her, Jess came to her decision. It might have taken a while — weeks after Halloween — to navigate the anxiety and worry, but she was going to do it. She had to.

"Hey, you're early. Didn't want me to pick you up?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Oh… Right now?" Kade's brows knitted together in confusion as he stood there in the doorway, but his question only made Jess more impatient than she already was.

Trying to control her rapid heartbeat, she urged, "Kade. Please."

His icy gaze widened for a fraction of a second before he seemed to finally realize how serious she was. He looked behind him before stepping in and gesturing for her to enter.

Jess's gaze darted around the house as she walked past him, and he must have caught it because he was then saying, "You're the first one here, so it's just us for now. What's got you so worried?"

He reached for her, but she immediately took a step backwards, earning a puzzled look from him. Her heart was pounding, and it felt like something was stuck in her throat.

_Ask him. You have to ask him,_ a voice urged.

"Babe. What's going on here?"

"Your Halloween party… I noticed something that night," she managed to force out, arms crossed as she stood there and avoided meeting his gaze.

"Yeah? Like what?"

Jess stopped to take a deep breath, willing her nerves to calm down. Her voice shook as she continued, "When you were in the hallway, Olivia and Mara were there with you… It looked like they were trying to, you know... get close to you."

"'Olivia and Mara'?" He sounded dumbfounded, and she could feel his eyes on her. "What are you talking about?"

"It looked a lot like they were flirting with you, and you weren't doing anything about it," she blurted, finally looking up at him.

Kade's gray-blue eyes stared at her in what appeared to be disbelief... but then they narrowed. "How so?"

Frustration nipped at her. "How else? You weren't telling them off or moving away or anything. At one point, it… you seemed like you were even…"

_Enjoying it. _She couldn't even say it.

"Are you kidding me, Jess? Nothing happened. They were drunk, having a good time. I didn't touch them or say anything because I didn't wanna be mean and ruin their night."

"All you had to do was stop them or remind them you have a girlfriend," Jess insisted, her voice cracking.

Kade rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in annoyance. "And what if that hadn't worked?"

"I don't know. You walk away? Kick them out since you're the party host?"

He let out a scoff. "'Kick them out,'" he echoed. "They were just having fun, Jess. _I _was having fun. No need for anyone to get worked up over some innocent flirting — I'm sure they just didn't remember or, hell, maybe they didn't care."

"Well, that's the point of telling them because they should respect—"

"Is there some deeper problem I don't know about?"

She fell silent for a moment, taken aback. "What?"

He glared at her before waving a hand towards her. "Are you just making a problem out of nothing because you're mad about something else?"

What on earth was he talking about?

"No, I—"

"This is why you're always so clingy, isn't it?" Kade shook his head in disappointment. "Do you just automatically see every girl, maybe every person around me, as a threat so you get jealous?"

Clingy. Jealous.

"I'm not jealous," Jess protested, vaguely aware of the stinging behind her eyes as her irritation only intensified. "It just made me uncomfortable, that's all, especially when you didn't do anything to stop them. I-I want you to be... _honest_ with me about why."

_Why you didn't stop them, why you seemed to like it._

"So you're calling me a liar."

At that, she couldn't even respond, especially when something that looked like anger was blazing in his eyes.

"You know, you being clingy and the stardust shit were things I decided to overlook. But now I'm starting to second guess this whole damn thing."

"W-what are you saying?"

Kade stared at her for a long moment before passing a hand over his face tiredly. "Besides me, you've only got two friends, Jess. Maybe if you had more, you wouldn't be attacking me for stupid shit like this."

His words cut off her air supply, making her painfully swallow and try to take steady breaths.

"And I find it kind of hypocritical of you to say all this when I've felt from the beginning like you and Wayne had something going on."

"_What?_" Jess was stunned; her mouth fell open before she let out a bitter laugh. "You're joking, right? There's absolutely nothing like that between us."

Gray-blue irises drilled into her. "I don't know, Jess, you two spend every waking minute together—"

"Because he's my _best friend—_"

"And Liv and Mara are _my _friends!" Kade's voice rose sharply as his eyes flashed, startling her. "See how fucking stupid that sounds?"

Jess could do nothing but stand there, blood pounding in her ears as she watched him regard her with such irritation and impatience. He made his way towards the couch and sat on the arm, running his fingers through his hair.

"Dammit, Jess. Why do you always have to make things so goddamn complicated?"

Before she could even begin to form a response, he suddenly added, "I've trusted all this time that you and Wayne are just friends. But you can't do the same for me?"

"It's not the same thing—"

"Oh, of course it's not. Jess is the only exception, right?" he challenged with sarcasm heavy in his tone. "Jess is allowed to fuck around with her guy best friend, but I'm not allowed to just _have_ friends that are girls."

"That's _not_ even what I said—"

"Jesus, shut up. Just _shut up_, Jess."

She couldn't breathe. Kade was... _furious_. His ice-cold glare pierced her from across the living room, and his body was wrought with tension. All Jess could do was try not to drown in confusion and disbelief. There was no way this was actually happening, was there?

"You know what? I just can't fucking do this anymore. I was having second thoughts anyway."

The air was definitely vanishing from her lungs now while his words sunk painfully into her.

Kade seemed to take notice of her silence. He met her widened eyes and then shook his head like he couldn't believe her stunned expression. "Come on, babe. Why are you looking at me like you don't get it?"

She finally found her voice and managed to respond, "Because... I-I don't."

_You were having second thoughts? About being with me?_

"I can't do anything right for you. You always need _this_, you need to know _that_. You worry about every little thing, it's so _exhausting_. And for what? This is your way of throwing a fit just to throw one? Do you just get off on making our lives complicated?"

Trying to breathe slowly to calm her high heart rate, Jess attempted to defend herself. "No. I just needed you to tell me the truth, but apparently you can't even tell what is true and what isn't."

It seemed like he hadn't heard her. "I don't get it, Jess," he expressed, gesturing towards her. "I seriously don't get where this is coming from. You were literally just in the backseat of my car the other day, being the complete opposite of… _whatever _this is."

She didn't say anything. She bit back the tears, watching as he stood there, eyes boring into her angrily until she had to look away.

A warm tear spilled down her cheek. Part of her wanted to pursue the questionable topic of him and the two girls as "friends," but another part was suddenly drained... and hurt. So hurt. Clearly, there were other issues happening here, and she was feeling the weight of them crushing her.

Jess had had no idea that Kade had apparently felt this way. Maybe he didn't mean it. Maybe he was just upset and saying things that weren't true...

"How can you say all of that when you—when you say that you were starting to love me?"

He was silent for a moment, bright eyes still staring at her as the unreadable expression on his face turned into something cold, something... apathetic. Unbothered.

"I guess I changed my mind," was what he finally said.

Against her will, more tears fell, blurring her vision as her throat constricted. _You changed your mind._ She found herself moving towards the front door when she heard him warn, "Jess, don't fucking walk away from me."

She shouldn't have, but she looked back and could see Kade pushing himself off the couch arm through her tears. He was approaching her, and Jess couldn't bring herself to budge from where she stood.

"You want my honesty?"

_No._

Something about the strange calmness in his voice told her she didn't want to hear what he had to say, so Jess stepped once again in the direction of the door. But his hand was taking her by the elbow while the other one grabbed her at her jaw to turn her face towards him.

"Jessica."

His grasp was gentle at first as Kade's icy eyes ran over her face, but once she attempted to move away, his fingers tightened and kept her in place, forcing her to look at him.

"You said I made you feel wanted. You leave, then nobody wants you. Wanna know why?"

Her body was reacting in an all-too-familiar manner now; the next thing she knew, she could feel his heartbeat as if it were her own… She could feel the power surging through her limbs, her hands, fastening her system to his. Fight-or-flight had been triggered, bringing her abilities to the surface as she found herself scrambling to connect to something, _anything_ that she could hold onto and—

"Kade, let _go_ of—" she tried to demand, her words slightly muffled by the way he was holding her jaw.

"'Cause your baggage is too much to carry, do you get that?" he interrupted in a low but aggressive tone. "You're _exhausting._"

_Stop. Just stop. I don't want to hear—_

"If it wasn't for the fact that you make up for all that in bed... I probably wouldn't want you either."

Her eyes stung again, desperation clawing at her frozen limbs as they screamed to get out of that house, out of his hands. The more he spoke, the harder the words shoved themselves right through her heart, cracking it. Though the previous look of impatience and displeasure was gone, she could still see it in the eerily calm way he was looking at her... She'd never seen him like this, never witnessed this _meanness_. His features were relaxed, but everything was there in his cold, hardened eyes.

And the way they were connected — he couldn't have known it, probably didn't feel it, but Jess did. She felt all of it, the adrenaline in his veins in addition to her own, the oddly steady thumping of his heart… yet it did nothing but freeze her in place, making her unable to make a move or tear something in his system to make it all stop.

"So if anyone ever tells you they want more than this," his gaze roamed her up and down to emphasize his point, "they're _lying_ to you. I'd bet on my life that's all Wayne wants from you, too."

That did it.

Jess reached up and tore his hand from her face; at the same time, she shattered the link she'd made to his body, suddenly alone in her stress and disbelief. Kade didn't appear fazed as she pulled her arm from his grip and practically stumbled from the house, ran out of the neighborhood and in a direction she didn't even pay attention to, not when her vision was blurred and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"_I was just getting started falling in love with you."_

She just ran. It didn't matter that it'd started raining, that she was soaked in less than a minute. She ran.

"_Think of the street names of places that brought you happiness growing up."_

_Downey Lane, Twelfth Street, Sunview Drive._

Darkness had fallen, blanketing Gotham in its signature night sky and chilling air.

"_Use your senses to ground yourself and bring yourself back to the present: what can you see? What you can feel? What can you smell?..."_

It was just a sheet of rain between her and whatever she ran towards, but she couldn't feel or decipher any of it. She couldn't feel the wetness, the road beneath her feet, the breaths her lungs struggled to take, the dewy smell in the air.

_Downey Lane, Twelfth—_

"_I guess I changed my mind."_

_Downey Lane, Twelfth Street, Sunview—_

"_You leave, then nobody wants you."_

_Downey Lane, Twelfth Street, Sunview Drive. Downey Lane, Twelfth Street, Sunview Drive. Downey Lane, Twelfth Street, Sunview Drive._

* * *

When he'd seen Jess's name appear on his vibrating phone, he hardly thought anything of it. Perhaps she was going to ask if he was busy and whether he wanted to do something together. (His answer, like many other times, would be yes.) The other possibility was that she hadn't studied enough for her upcoming physics test and was panicking a bit.

"Did you decide you need help studying after all?"

"Damian, it's Misty."

He paused. That was strange. "Is Jess alright?"

"Uh... no. Not really." The girl's voice was hesitant and quiet as if she was trying not to wake someone nearby. "She told me to call you. I'm just so pissed off, and I dunno what to do—"

"What happened?" Damian stood with his phone pressed to his ear, tension flooding his body.

"You have to come straight here, okay? She'll be so mad if—"

"Misty. What. Happened?"

There was a heavy sigh on the other end. Each passing second made him impatient, and he was already working to contain the anxiety from waiting to hear what was going on with Jess.

"It was Kade. I don't know exactly how it happened, but I guess she asked him about Olivia and Mara 'cause they were flirting with him on Halloween, and he didn't do anything about it. He got pissed off, apparently, and started going off about how she was accusing him and he was getting tired of the relationship anyway or something dumb like that.

"Then... well, he also said something really fucked up about how no one else will want her and he was only with her for, um, uh, you know... She's here at my place right now, really torn up about it. I mean, she hasn't stopped crying, and I think she was out in the rain for a little while, so you should just come over—"

Her voice was gone when he hung up.

_"It was Kade."_

All he saw and felt was red as he drove as quickly as he could through the city, the roar of his car not enough to drown out the anger spilling from his body and filling his ears with ringing. A brief image of Jess, tears running down her face, flashed in his mind's eye. It was soon replaced by a fantasy of putting his hands around that blond cretin's throat. His knuckles were white, hands gripping the wheel like he was acting out the scene in his head.

_"He said something really fucked up about how no one else will want her and he was only with her for, um, uh, you know..."_

He did know.

It should have taken about twenty minutes to arrive in the neighborhood, but at his very illegal, dangerously high speed and despite the heavy rain, the Aston Martin arrived in eight instead. A few other cars were already littered across the long driveway of the modern home, colorful lights flashing in the windows to the beat of a bass-heavy rap song. But Damian hardly noticed any of his surroundings, all of his senses overloaded with pure, hot rage. Only a miniscule part of him was making an effort to reel it in, but it was losing.

It was losing quickly.

The front door was unlocked when he walked through it as calmly as his enraged nerves would let him. Dancing bodies were already swarming around him, but he pushed on, his blazing, green eyes scanning the crowded entryway, kitchen then living room for a familiar blond head. The music was filling his ears, punctuated by shrieks of laughter and chatter, and the scents of sweat and alcohol invaded his nose.

_There._

Kade was standing in the corner of the large living room, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a beer bottle. He was engaged in a conversation with someone Damian didn't even see because his sight was set on him and him only. Making a beeline for the teen and unintentionally shoving others out of his way, earning annoyed glares and mutters, the former assassin's hand went straight for the front of Kade's shirt. In a split second, he had him up and against the wall, mere inches separating his deathly glare and Kade's stunned expression.

"Dude, what the hell—"

Damian was vaguely aware of cold liquid somewhere on his arm, likely from the beer bottle the blond had dropped out of surprise, but he didn't care. He was doing everything he could to hold back the itch in his hands, but looking into the face of someone who'd hurt the only girl he cared about made it very, very difficult.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded harshly, voice cutting into the party's lively atmosphere.

"What the fuck are you on? Let go of me," Kade was nearly yelling, brows knitted together in frustration and his hands held up in the air.

Then suddenly the music stopped and so did everything else, Damian's disruptive entrance having halted the entire party. Underneath the rage bubbling to the surface, he could feel many eyes on him, the swift silence that followed almost thicker and louder than the boisterous noise that had been taking place just seconds ago.

"_What did you do to her?_"

Realization seemed to pierce through the other teen's panic and confusion, his eyes narrowing in cold indignation. "I told her the truth... 'cause she asked for it."

A hot wave of anger rushed over him, enveloping his entire being. _The truth? _Damian's other fist that wasn't pinning Kade against the wall opened and closed repeatedly at his side, waiting, eager. Maintaining the acidic, livid glare, he snarled, "Say it then. Say exactly what you said to her to me."

Kade's eyes flickered behind Damian, to the dozens of teenagers who were watching the entire altercation unfold.

"_Say it, you coward._"

Those four words were low and barely-controlled, but they were heavy with animosity, making the expression on Kade's face shift to something like a grim smirk... as if he wanted to challenge him. The resentment the two held was nearly tangible, surrounding both young men in their own world of outrage that separated them from everyone who watched. A few seconds passed as Kade held Damian's glare, icy irises looking down on him.

"Nobody else will want you," he recited slowly through gritted teeth. He seemed to adopt more confidence as he went on, saying to Damian's face the same words that had hurt Jess. "You're _exhausting_, and if it wasn't for the fact that you make up for all that in bed, I probably wouldn't want you either... And I'd bet on my own life that's all _Wayne_ wants—"

The crack between Damian's fist and Kade's nose was audible in the ever quiet room, eliciting a few gasps and murmurs from around them. Releasing the teen's shirt, Damian stepped back, shoulders heaving with the breaths he was struggling to take as he watched Kade bend over, a hand to his face. And just as he'd expected, the blond straightened up and launched himself at him, but there was nothing he would have been able to do to get one over the former assassin.

With two swift motions, Damian had him pressed against the wall again; this time, he had one hand on Kade's upper back and the other pulling his arm backwards by the wrist, a position that was nothing short of painful for the teen whose bloody face was shoved into his own wall.

_How pathetic._

Leaning forward to ensure the bastard heard him, Damian threatened in a low growl, "If I ever see you so much as glance in her direction, I will not hesitate to make you wish I ended you right here in front of your peers. Understood?"

Kade was trying to look at him from his uncomfortable position, the blood continuing to spill around his mouth and to his chin. Voice slightly muffled by his face against the wall, he tried, "Fuck you, Wayne."

Damian pushed the teen's arm just an inch in one direction, the heel of his other hand digging into his back some more, causing him to cry out in pain. "I'm sorry. What was that? I don't speak '_weakling_.'"

Face turning slightly red, Kade finally muttered breathlessly, "Understood."

Only mildly satisfied, Damian released him roughly before straightening up. Two teenagers that he'd sensed approaching both stared at him in bewilderment tainted with alarm; a simple, taunting onceover from him had them second-guessing their initial thoughts to step in as they turned instead to tend to their bleeding friend. It was almost laughable how the boys, built well for their age but not nearly as much as he was, seemed to immediately retreat and tuck their tails between their legs.

He was almost disappointed.

Damian turned on his heel, leaving the room as quickly as he'd entered it, avoiding the baffled gazes that followed him. But as soon as he was entering his car, he saw Kade running out the front door into the rain and stopping on his lawn, some of the partygoers following after him and spilling out of the large home.

"You're fucking psychotic, Wayne," he was shouting, the front of his shirt darkened with blood that he'd attempted to wipe away. Indignation (and more blood) written across his face, he added, "You two deserve each other!"

Jaw clenched, Damian ignored him and stepped on the gas pedal, speeding down the street and leaving a slight trail of smoke and the smell of burnt rubber in his wake.

* * *

She was waiting for him when he arrived home.

After less than an hour of driving around the city in hopes to calm down, he'd finally decided he should try taking out the rest of his built up anger out on a training dummy. That opportunity disappeared the moment he saw her sitting on the staircase, dressed in leggings and a t-shirt, her hair tied back in a disheveled ponytail.

Tired, hazel eyes were rimmed with smudged mascara and slightly puffy as they stared him down, making his heart clench uneasily. Neither of them said anything for a long while, the tension thick in the air.

He had expected her arrival, though, particularly after receiving multiple text messages from her, asking where he was, and then Alfred, notifying him that she'd come looking for him.

She looked exhausted, hurt. Her obvious distress made him want to do something to make her feel better, to take away some of her pain, however much he could.

"How long have you been waiting?" he decided to ask.

There was a shift in her eyes. "Where were you?"

Pocketing his keys and crossing his arms, Damian didn't answer. He knew she knew exactly where he'd been — there was no point in lying nor was there a reason he should even say it aloud. What would that do?

"Where were you?" she asked again, louder this time.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Her bottom lip trembling, Jess glared at him with a tear escaping from the corner of her eye. She wiped at it and stood from her seated position. "What made you think that was a good idea, Damian?"

_He hurt you._

"Seriously. How did you think 'Oh, I'm going to crash his party and get into a fight with him in front of basically the _entire_ school—'"

"It was hardly a fight—"

"_You broke his nose._" Jess's eyes were blazing as she stared him down, more tears spilling down her cheeks. Her voice was straining now, matching the shakiness of her chin.

Was she really defending that young man after all this time? Irritation seared through him despite how much he disliked seeing her cry. He'd given Kade only a fraction of what he truly deserved.

Trying to keep his voice even, he responded, "How are you so concerned about what I did when he treated you—"

"Because it was selfish!"

Her outburst seemed to startle them both. She could barely hold his green-eyed gaze as she sniffled and gestured with her hands towards him. "I _waited _for you at Misty's," she went on, her voice cracking. "When she told me she'd talked to you, I-I was hoping that meant you were coming. To _me._"

Pink was flushing her wet cheeks now, and her eyes were shiny with tears. The sight sent ache into Damian's bones, but he found himself speechless, unable to respond.

"Instead you... you..." Jess gave an uncontrollable sob, using her shirt to wipe away the tears. She was no longer looking at him, her gaze on the hardwood floor between them.

"I waited for you," she added in a defeated tone before going down the last few steps and brushing past him, towards the front door.

That seemed to undo the frozen spell on him as he turned to watch her. "Where are you going?"

She ignored him, hand reaching for the doorknob. Damian's hand shot out, fingers closing around her wrist. With a gentle tug, she was facing him, though her body language told him she was about to yank her arm back.

_Don't._

Another pull and his arms were around her in a hug, the top of her head bumping against his jaw. It took a few seconds, but her small limbs wrapped around him, her body shaking with cries. He could hear and feel them against his chest, how she became wholly and completely undone in his arms.

As they stood there in the manor's foyer, Damian held her together as best as he could. She sobbed uncontrollably and without restraint, yet he was there to pick up her fragile pieces, grasping them as they fell. It was in that moment that the young man knew he could never let another person do to her what Kade had done, dimming the light in her eyes and causing pain that broke her heart. He would put her back together on his own if he had to, even if it meant cutting himself on the sharp edges and sharing her burdens.

He would do anything for her.

_I will never let anyone hurt you like this again._

* * *

**Note: **wow, this is the longest chapter i've written yet! but i think i speak for all of us when i say FINALLY Kade gets what he deserves lol. it was a long time coming, i know xD

fun fact: i had the "fight" between Damian and Kade written for the longest time, since like Chapter 24 or something, not long after he was introduced. i just felt that i needed to build up to it appropriately and in a way that made sense — in other words, things had to go well for Jess for a while until Kade's behavior started changing and his true colors showed. we could say their tumultuous relationship was sort of an indirect result or metaphor for her getting into stardust. but as several of you have said in your reviews, he was definitely toxic, manipulative, and just the kind of person you wanted to punch right in the face. luckily, Damian fulfilled that desire for us now :D

but hey, now we rejoice and move onto other exciting things now! besides furthering Jess and Dami's relationship (and more fuzzy, fluffy stuff even better than his bday present to her :) ), i've got lots in store when it comes to Jason and the rest of the batfam (i'm looking forward to developing the interactions with him and Jess, actually. i feel like there's potential there...) on that note, I'm working on incorporating other ghosts from Damian's past, and that may or may not include Talia/Ra's ;)

thanks for all your love! it means a lot that you guys are into my wild ideas, become inspired, whatever cool thing it might be. so it's awesome you stick with me through this long, crazy ride *heart emoji* i really committed myself to this slow burn thing lol


	35. Rumors and Justifications

"_You keep running away when I need you most,_

_Running away when I need you close_

_My heart is full, but yours is running out_

_I think I'm afraid of what comes next_

_Yeah, I'm afraid you've lost your head_

_Baby, you know that I loved you first_

_But now, you're in love with somebody else"_

_~ joan, "i loved you first"_

* * *

**Chapter 35: Rumors and Justifications**

To say that Jason's sudden appearance was jarring would have been an understatement. Sure, it wasn't out-of-character for the younger man to do something off-putting and abrupt that sent those around him scrambling for stability, but Bruce certainly wished he'd been given a bit more of a heads-up that bittersweet day.

On one hand, he'd been pleasantly surprised to find one of his sons at the front door. After their last encounter, during which Jason had seemed like he wasn't eager to try and reconnect with his family, Bruce had been convinced that perhaps a few more months would pass until they crossed paths again. He'd never anticipated his words getting through to Jason (if that's what had prompted his decision to come by the manor) and settled on dwindling hope and lowered expectations.

Of course, on the other hand… he could see what the situation was doing to his youngest. One of the first things that had occurred to him, standing there and seeing Jason regard him with an expectant, almost innocent look, was the realization that Damian was still home — and with Jess. It had been very unfortunate and poor timing on everyone's part, but Bruce had, admittedly, breathed a sigh of relief at seeing that Damian _wasn't_ launching himself at Jason upon first sight. That was a bit of an improvement, wasn't it?

Yet what was there that he could do to mitigate the tension and hostility between the two? He and Dick had already tried for the last few years to smooth things out… so perhaps Jason showing up was a first step, a sign. He might have been waving it off as "just seeing what everyone's up to," but Bruce couldn't help suspecting that the younger man — deep, _deep_ down — truly wanted to connect with family again. Jason would most likely never admit it, even at gunpoint, so it was merely an assumption that Bruce could only hope to be true.

So he took it as it was, telling his son he should visit more often despite Damian's protests and reservations. If the twenty-year-old wanted to gripe about his presence, Bruce would let him handle it the way he wanted to, leaving the manor and avoiding Jason as he saw fit. Enabling his behavior was likely the worst thing he could do though, so the older Wayne made a mental note to attempt a tête-à-tête.

Besides, there was a separate incident he wanted to discuss with his youngest.

"And I thought _I _was a handful."

Jason took up a seat nearby while Bruce bent over a few items laid across the lab bench. Jason had contacted him earlier, wanting to visit again; they were in the cave now, waiting for Alfred to call upon them for lunch. This was the fourth or fifth time the younger man had stopped by the manor in the last several weeks, and yet Bruce still hadn't asked the question that had been burning in his mind since that day he'd shown up unannounced at the door.

"He was only upset that Jess got hurt," he said distractedly as he examined the evidence that Jim Gordon had passed along the other night.

"Yeah, and he reacted in exactly the way any of us would have expected."

"Would you have reacted differently?"

"Maybe. I might've left him with more than a broken nose and shattered dignity."

_I wouldn't doubt that._

Straightening up, Bruce glanced over at him. "Jason…" The younger man met his eyes with raised brows. "Why did you really come back?"

His blue-green eyes were cool as he laid back in the chair. "Thought we already discussed this."

Deciding to be blunt, he responded, "You gave me an answer you thought I wanted to hear."

At his son's silence that followed for a long minute, Bruce gave a sigh and turned his full attention to him. He considered his words, wondering how best to express his thoughts about a sensitive subject, then said, "It's great that you want to visit after all your travels. But we both know there's an elephant in the room that you've been pretending doesn't exist." He caught the flickering in Jason's eyes. "And it's not one you can simply ignore if you really do want to reconnect with family."

Now, he merely had to wait and see what kind of response he would get.

Jason tore his gaze away, opting to stare at the floor by his feet. In a stiff voice, he replied, "I didn't realize getting him to finally forgive me and look me in the eye was a requirement for being a part of the family again."

'Him' clearly meant Damian.

"'Again'?" Bruce echoed with a raised brow. "Jason, we may not all be under the same roof as before, but everyone, including you, has been out there, living their own lives. You were never 'removed' or exiled simply because you went off-grid—"

"Oh, but wasn't I?" His bright eyes flashed as he looked back up at the older man and straightened up tensely in the chair. "Maybe not for going AWOL, but for…"

He pressed his lips together, as if to prevent himself from finishing the sentence, then shook his head. "You know what for," Jason muttered as he slouched again.

Of course he felt exiled. Damian had always been the sort of person, even as a child, who made his needs, desires, and antipathies known — often without anyone prompting him to do so. The young man, about 17-years-old at the time, had made it clear to his family that Jason had failed him and was ultimately blacklisted from being in his life again. And considering Damian's nature and personality, it'd almost been impossible to get him to see reason.

There was a short, bitter laugh as Jason stared across the room; Bruce could tell his mind was elsewhere, perhaps in memories he'd attempted to bury deeply. "I lowered my expectations a long time ago, Bruce. You probably should, too."

"That might be the wisest thing you've ever said."

The two men turned to see Damian standing in the entryway with crossed arms and an unreadable expression on his face. He was dressed in a sweater and jacket as if he were just about to head out, dark locks combed back neatly.

Jason said nothing as Bruce nodded towards him. "Going out?"

"I'll be back in time for dinner," the younger Wayne responded promptly. "Alfred said you wanted to see me."

"How is she?"

The briefest pause greeted the three of them until Damian said, "She gets out of bed if that's what you mean."

_Well, any news must be good news._

"It's a good thing we pay that PR firm as much money as we do," Bruce mused, examining his youngest. "Teenagers and their obsession to record anything and everything can be dangerous — damaging — nowadays."

Perhaps he should have waited to mention this when Jason wasn't around, yet he felt compelled to bring it up anyway. He barely reacted to the slight narrowing of Damian's gaze before taking a moment to examine the evidence on the table. Despite him merely alluding to what he was _really _saying, he knew Damian would understand.

"It should come as no surprise, Father, that I couldn't care less about damage control or what nonsense some idiots on the internet have to say about me." His tone was cold and sharp… but Bruce only sighed and looked up at him. "I merely did what was necessary."

Standing from where he sat at the table, he leveled a gaze with his son. "I never said your confrontation was unnecessary."

Green eyes shifted from annoyance to comprehension, and Damian gave a slight nod.

While Bruce did have Wayne Enterprises' PR team handling the wildfire that was the multi-billionaire's youngest son sinking a fist into a teenager's face at an illegal house party, said multi-billionaire was more worried about the aforementioned son's well being than he was about what it might do to his (or their) reputation. As Jason had said earlier, Damian's reaction had been nothing short of characteristic for him, and Bruce could only be grateful it hadn't been worse than a mere broken nose.

If anything, he agreed that the dispute had been unavoidable.

Damian was turning on his heel, about to leave, when Jason finally spoke from where he still sat. "Wait, people saw what you did?"

The young man paused, brows wrinkling slightly at his older brother's question. "Yes. It was a public setting, a party that Kade had been hosting at his own home."

"You humiliated the kid at his own gig," Jason said slowly as if saying the words aloud would help him… And then a slight, impish smirk crossed his face while he added, "Nice going, demon spawn."

He didn't mean to, but Bruce found himself holding his breath. It seemed to be an innocent, lighthearted comment on Jason's part, an approval of the young man's method in confronting Kade Noor, but even such small things — as well as the nickname — could elicit the snappy, foul-mouthed side of Damian that was easy to vex.

To the older Wayne's pleasant surprise (and relief), Damian only nodded, pausing for a second, before finally walking off. He could feel Jason looking at him across the room, and while he didn't particularly know why, Bruce had a feeling they were sharing the same observation: it had happened in the shortest instance, a quick twitch of a face muscle near the corner of Damian's mouth.

As if he had almost smiled.

* * *

In all her years of attending school and growing up as a teen, Jess had never quite fit the stereotypical roles she was familiar with. She'd never been popular or well-known, considered some type of outcast, or given yearbook superlatives that would make her cringe twenty years later. Everything about her and her life had always been normal, simple, uncomplicated most times and downright boring at others. Jessica Fairchild had merely been the girl who sat at the back of a classroom, played hockey and loved figure skating, hated white chocolate, and wasn't very good at math or science. Even with her meta-human abilities, she had been as average as average could be.

Recent events had changed all of that.

From ordinary teenager to the girl who'd lost both her parents and ran away, Jessica was now a recovering juvenile delinquent, attempting to atone for her sins — and now, she was the talk of the entire student body at Gotham Academy, a particular subject of interest after what had happened with Kade. Because they were broken up, right? Neither of them had spoken to each other or reached out, and Jess wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. How _could _they recover after something like that? All she could do was keep her head down, turning the other way whenever she saw him in her path, avoiding eye contact with his friends. Too many sets of eyes followed her everywhere she went, hushed whispers cut off when they noticed her get too close. No amount of mental and emotional preparation after her fight with him had readied her for how _scrutinized _and _judged _she felt during the following school days. She might as well have been a lab rat in a maze, watched and studied by a group of scientists making hypotheses and coming to their own conclusions.

And people coming up with assumptions had to be the worst of it all. Sure, pretty much everyone had witnessed the altercation between Damian and Kade and heard their hostile exchange; they knew of the horrible things he'd said to her, how furious her friend had been and how willing he'd been to confront the blond… But beyond that, her peers also had the audacity to dream up reasons outside of her unhealthy relationship with him that might've contributed to the friction between the two young men.

She'd seen the recorded video, of course. Misty had shown it to her, and if anything was circulating faster than gossip about their supposed love triangle, it was that footage. Jess hadn't found the heart to discuss it yet with Damian, mostly because she was having a difficult time simply trying to figure out how she felt about it. Part of her was undoubtedly still upset that he had gone off to accost Kade rather than show up for her when she needed him, but another couldn't help experiencing satisfaction at watching the blond eat her best friend's knuckles. She could only imagine that he was embarrassed besides angry, especially since people were taking note of how Damian had seemed to overpower him so easily.

So when a girl with curly, black hair and glasses approached Jess before her first class of the morning as she walked through the courtyard, her immediate response was apprehension and worry — was she going to talk about something related to schoolwork? She recognized her from one of Kade's parties during the summer and they shared physics class, but Jess couldn't recall that she was really a friend of either Kade or Misty. And then Jess realized the girl — Cora was her name — was smiling kindly at her, which did little to calm her uneasy nerves.

"Hey, Jess."

"Uh, hi... How're you?" Jess returned tentatively, coming to a stop in her tracks to face her.

"I'm good, thanks. Hey, I have a question."

Wariness immediately took over at her abruptness, making Jess look the girl up and down before saying, "Oh, sure. What's up?"

Cora glanced around before stepping closer and hooking her thumbs through her backpack straps. In a low voice, she asked, "Is it true?"

"Is… what true?"

She met Jess's confused gaze, raising her thin brows. "Well, you're with Kade, right? I mean, you _were_, sorry."

Realizing what she was asking, Jess felt any hint of assurance and level-headedness slip away, replaced by mental walls that were quickly rising. "Oh, yeah, but I'd rather not talk—"

"—but still friends with Damian Wayne?"

That stopped her.

"Yes…? Why are you asking?" she prompted, impatience eating at her nerves.

The other girl reached up to readjust her glasses before clearing her throat. "Sorry, I… I just had to find out for myself, I guess."

"I… okay, well, that's honestly none of your business." She was moving to step around her when Cora blocked her, making Jess's brows knit together in confusion and annoyance.

Brown eyes widened before a sheepish look crossed Cora's features. "Well, yeah, but you know people are talking, right?" At Jess's silent and impatient stare, she added, "People are saying that Kade and Damian… you know… _shared _you."

The words didn't seem to register for a long, long moment, but then they did — and Jess's heart began beating painfully in her chest, the blood pounded in her ears, her palms were suddenly sweaty. She was aware of Cora's mouth moving, but her vision seemed to tunnel with darkness briefly as she forgot where she was and why she was there. All she could comprehend was this horrendous idea of Kade and Damian "_sharing"_ her? Like it was some kind of—

"Jess?"

"Who told you that?" she managed to ask breathlessly. "Who… who said that?"

Taken aback, Cora stammered, "Um, I heard Georgia and some other guy talking about it. I-I couldn't help overhearing."

The panic was setting in. She could feel it forcing its way past her defenses as she struggled to grasp this concept that the other teen seemed to think held any truth.

"I'm guessing it's not true—?"

"It's not. It's—it's completely, one-hundred-percent false," Jess tried to urge as she took a step away, in a hurry to go… well, anywhere. "It's not true. It's not."

She didn't give Cora a chance to respond; Jess took off, subconsciously making her way to home room but with anxiety clawing at her thoughts. How did this happen? How many people actually thought this was even remotely true? Maybe it was the alarm and dismay she was swimming in, but the passing stares and whispers she was getting felt amplified. Did they all believe this? That she'd basically had two boyfriends and…?

The mere thought was sickening. She had to pause in a hallway, leaning her shoulder against the wall and closing her eyes. Her heart was still pounding rapidly, hands clammy and cold.

_Downey Lane, Twelfth Street, Sunview Drive. Downey Lane, Twelfth Street, Sunview Drive. Downey Lane, Twelfth Street, Sunview Drive._

A minute later, her breathing was a bit more even, slower… but the dismay still lingered at the brink of her consciousness. _So what now, Jess? _She would find Georgia and figure out where she'd gotten the rumor from. They didn't share classes, unfortunately, but she knew where she usually saw the girl during lunch.

Would she be able to wait that long? Once again, Jess could feel the panic returning, so she spent another moment leaning against that wall and catching her breath before heading to class.

And it felt like eternity. The entire morning, the teen couldn't help but bounce her knee, twist her ring, look around to see if anyone was glancing at her in some particular way. Were they thinking what she dreaded? If so, were they judging her? Admiring her? (Which would be really weird.) How many people had heard this claim?

Man, the impatience just _ate_ away at her. It took everything in her power to not be the first one out the door once their lunch period began. Her phone was buzzing in her pocket as she made a beeline for the other end of campus, though she knew it was probably Misty wanting to find out where she was or where they'd meet or Kade—

Oh, no.

Having forgotten that he left class right down the hall from her, she recognized his back as he walked off and raised a hand at someone in the distance. His eyes, narrowed in anger, popped into her head while Jess actively went the opposite direction and searched the area for a familiar brunette. She could only imagine how upset he'd be if he'd heard the same thing.

Before she could start panicking about that, too, she spotted the girl she'd been looking for, seeing her laughing with a group of friends. It would be much more ideal to get her alone and not intervene — the idea of multiple people seeing her ask Georgia to speak privately made her stomach churn. Jess slowly approached the group, several yards in distance, deciding she'd wait until the girl stepped away. Her hands were clammy again. She was reciting in her what she'd say when the mention of her name caught her attention.

"Yeah, I've been hearing that, too. Isn't that wild?"

Glancing around, she saw two teens she didn't recognize behind her as they sat on a nearby bench. Both of their backs were towards her, but she moved a little closer, careful to not let herself be easily recognized if they happened to turn around. She stepped behind a pillar that separated her and them, straining her ears.

"Wait, so she was pretty much dating them both or what?" the guy seemed to ask.

The girl responded, "I dunno. I just heard that she's been friends with Damian for a while, but she didn't start dating Kade till the beginning of the semester. But like, I've heard that was why the two guys never got along — she was playing them both."

"At the same time on purpose? Or she was just cheating on Kade?"

"No, I mean, _literally_ at the same time. Threesome and all?"

"Huh… well _I _heard she was just seeing Damian on the side and Kade didn't even know."

"Ha, if that's the case, he sure knows now then."

"Yeah, but whichever is the truth, apparently she just couldn't pick one," he laughed.

"Guess not. I mean, I really can't blame her. They're both hot."

"How? That Wayne guy never smiled."

"Exactly. Some of us find that attractive."

There was a scoff followed by "Women."

"Hey, shut the hell up. You're just mad 'cause you haven't had a girlfriend yet…"

A wave of uneasiness and nausea crashed over her and a ringing sound filled her ears, the teens' voices fading away. Struggling to breathe evenly, Jess felt her back hit the pillar, aware of her fellow peers still bustling back and forth, completely oblivious to her. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

"Don't listen to them," Misty told her later as they huddled together at the end of an empty hallway. "It's just typical, stupid high school gossip. They have nothing better to do."

Easier said than done. Despite how much her friend insisted that knowing the truth and dismissing all other false narratives was most important, Jess couldn't ignore the fact that those untrue rumors were floating around. It made her beyond uncomfortable to see the criticism and curiosity in other teens' eyes, to know that their perceptions of her were warped by ugly assumptions. It certainly didn't matter that some of them might even approve of the things she supposedly did with Kade and Damian — the bottom line was that it was completely, undoubtedly false.

Other than navigating her newfound popularity that she'd never asked for, Jess spent her time distracting herself. She had no desire to dwell on the very big, very obvious mistake — though, admittedly, it hadn't been "obvious" to her until now, _after _things had blown up in her face — that she'd made with Kade. If she wasn't at school, she was with Damian or Misty, going to hockey practice, spending time in the rink to rehearse old routines she'd learned. Of course, she still had a few nights where she unleashed the tears she held back all day, tears that stemmed from anger and confusion. If it wasn't enough that endless questions ran through her head about what she could've done better and why he'd been so awful, the teen had to fight the desire to try and make things work again. A small part of her still wanted to reach out and make amends, to figure out how to have a healthier, better relationship… and then a voice would tell her she was being naive and that it was simply a lost cause.

After staring holes into the painting she'd hung up on her wall from Damian, something that brought her a little bit of peace, she found herself needing fresh air. Jess wasn't all there in the present as she got up and set off on foot from her dorm, not caring that the evening was beginning with light showers. The night chill poked at her through her hoodie and jacket; she shoved her hands into the pockets and walked… and walked. Paying attention just barely enough to not end up in the middle of the street and follow corners, the teen distanced herself from the academy campus. She let both her mind and feet wander, aware of how the warm wetness built over time in her eyes and pain rose in her chest. Maybe there was some self-pity under her skin, too, a piece of her that wondered how she could've been so stupid, naive. Crying over a boy… how much more cliche and ridiculous could she get?

It didn't take long for him to show — or maybe it did, considering she didn't know what time was anymore — but she didn't notice until she felt his hand on her shoulder as her eyes stared unseeingly and blurry at the wet pavement beneath her feet. She heard him say her name, soft and concerned, though Jess couldn't find herself to respond. All she could continue to do was glare angrily at the ground, not caring at all that she was cold, wet, and miserable. Absolutely miserable.

Vaguely, she was aware of him telling her something that her muddy brain didn't exactly comprehend and reaching out towards her. Wiping at the tears that had blended into the raindrops on her face, Jess finally acknowledged Damian's presence as she took his warm hand and let him help her up from the sidewalk. Although she wasn't meeting his eyes as he guided her towards his car, she could feel that heavy, green gaze on her; he was most definitely seeing a mess, a stupid, teenage girl with running mascara and wet hair, eyes red from crying so much. Jess couldn't bring herself to look at him or speak the entire drive to wherever it was he was taking her. In fact, she didn't care where they went as long as it was far away from there. If he was by her side, she would go anywhere.

Anywhere but here.

It wasn't until they'd arrived at the manor that the pain and confusion she'd buried started rising again, and it took what little strength she had left to keep them at bay as they made their way up to his room. The hot tears were starting to escape as Damian went to retrieve dry clothes for her. Everything was a blur: changing into the long-sleeved sweater and pajama shorts that must've once belonged to Stephanie or Cass, avoiding looking at her horrendous appearance in the bathroom mirror, and biting back more sobs the entire time. By the time she'd climbed under the sheets next to him, her vision was blurry once more and the hurt was filling her entire being.

Hands pressed to her eyes as she buried her face into his chest, Jess cried out what was left in her that she hadn't managed to do over the previous days. The warmth from his arms and body, his presence in general, seemed to be the only things holding her together as she finally let herself fall apart and feel all the nasty, negative emotions tearing at her insides.

When the sobs subsided eventually and she was left with hiccups and sniffles, the teen rolled onto her back and wiped at her face, trying to take even breaths. Jess ignored the soreness behind her eyes and finally turned her head to meet those emerald greens that were watching her with something unreadable in them, but the slight wrinkles between his brows gave her an idea. That look reminded her how pathetic she probably looked and of the reason why she was even in such a broken state.

But at the same time, it brought her comfort, the way Damian was looking at her, silently and patiently. It was gentle and warm… just like his arms when he'd been holding her or his hand when he'd pulled her to her feet. That shade of green seemed to burn through the protective barrier she'd been desperately scrambling to put up around herself after everything that had happened. Unlike many things that had managed to do it before, how he looked at her slowed her natural defenses, inching past Jess's walls and claiming a place within instead of outside them.

She wanted to break eye contact but keep it at the same time.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she turned her head to look back up at the ceiling dimly lit by the lamp on his bedside table. Waves of the urge to cry washed over her every now and then, but she managed to overcome them as she continued taking slow, deep breaths. And then she felt him touch her knuckles, making her realize she'd been gripping the comforter. As if it was natural, Jess's hand relaxed underneath his until — completely without a thought — she turned her palm upwards and weaved her fingers through his. The gesture sent a peculiar feeling through her arm and the rest of her body, one that almost numbed the ache her entire being was suffering from.

"Jessica."

Her name, spoken quietly in the still air, somehow made her heart skip. Looking over, she saw that his gaze was running over her face and those wrinkles between his brows were nearly gone.

"He never deserved you."

On another day, maybe the sentiment would have annoyed her because she'd wanted him to be accepting of her relationship with Kade. Maybe she would have glared and snapped at him about his opinion that she'd grown tired of hearing.

But at that moment, his words had her eyes stinging again though the tears didn't return. Instead, she realized that this was something other than his opinion of the guy who was now her ex; he was telling her that she was worth more than what Kade had made her feel, that he didn't deserve who she was or what she could give.

So who did?

Her eyes, seemingly on their own, traveled from the dark, green irises to his nose and down to his lips, stirring something deep within her chest. _How did I ever get lucky enough to have someone like you care about me?_ The question jolted her, making Jess's hand twitch within his as she struggled to understand the odd feeling starting to creep under her skin. Damian had always cared for her, always been by her side even when sometimes it'd felt like the opposite. He'd let her in when she'd nudged her way past his walls, never abandoned her when she'd done her best to do the same or when her mistakes had almost torn them apart. Despite how flawed she was and how often she tripped over her own feet, he'd been there without question, even when she'd fought against it, even doubted it. He was undeniably one of the most loyal people, the best friend, she'd ever met… and Jess couldn't imagine her life without him.

"_I've heard that was why the two guys never got along — she was playing them both."_

Releasing Damian's hand and moving to sit cross-legged on the bed, she could feel him still watching her. But she kept her gaze on the expensive comforter, trying to choose her words carefully.

"You didn't have to do what you did, you know." Her voice was soft and wobbly, like a mere leaf trembling in the wind.

There was a pause, and then he was sitting up, too. "I wanted to."

Something compelled her to finally meet his eyes again as she absentmindedly spun the ring on her finger. "Are you glad you were right about him?"

It was only a little concerning, the time it took for him to consider her words as he looked at her. But then Damian was shaking his head, brows wrinkled in worry.

"Of course not."

"Why is that?" she asked after attempting to swallow past the growing lump in her throat.

Jess couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. It had been obvious that her friend didn't want her with Kade for several reasons, and now that had come true. Why wouldn't he be relieved that they were no longer together?

"Because I would rather be wrong than see you like this."

The tears came without warning. She was quick to cover her wet face with her hands, internally scolding herself for still being so vulnerable, breakable. But a strong arm was gently wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest again, and Jess gave into it. She surrendered wholeheartedly, knowing there was no reason for her to try and pretend she had any tenacity left.

The familiar, warming feeling — whether from his arms, his presence, maybe something entirely different — spread over her, and she found herself holding onto it almost desperately because it was the only thing easing the pain and misery her heart was drowning in.

* * *

That same night, Damian insisted that she stay over. She didn't have the strength to disagree — and why would she? After being alone for several days and half-assed attempts to distract herself, Jess just didn't want to be in her dorm, struggling to fall asleep. She'd rather do it under a roof where she was comfortable, knowing a friend was nearby.

And so she stayed.

All she had to do was scroll through her phone for some time until she grew sleepy enough to not care about heartbreak and teenage boys. Yeah, she could do that, right? So Jess spent over an hour watching random videos and laughing silently at stupid memes, waiting for her eyelids to feel heavy as she laid in the guest room.

That confidence didn't last very long. Soon, there was nothing appealing on social media anymore, so she put her phone back on the bedside table and hoped for sleep to come. Laying there in the dark, Jess couldn't help reliving the past few weeks' worst memories, the strong fingers at her jaw, the cold glare, the painful words thrown at her. Tears escaping from her eyes, she shifted around as best as she could, keeping her makeshift sheet of protection and curling up into a ball.

The anxious, troublesome thoughts continued to invade her mind; there was no way she'd be able to fall asleep within a reasonable frame of time if she kept allowing her mind run the way it was. _Damian is literally just down the hall._ She realized she didn't want to be alone with her unpleasant thoughts and feelings… The teen couldn't help laughing a little at the desire that flitted through her mind — she felt like she was seven years old again, afraid of the dark and wanting to go to her parents' room. Most of the time, she did end up making it out of bed and sprinting across the dark house to sleep on their floor or crawl into the small space between them.

But she couldn't do that now, no. Jess was a legal adult, more than old enough to brave a little darkness. Hell, she'd walked around _Gotham at night_ more than a handful of times already with hardly any fear of her surroundings and the real threats that were out there. A broken heart and a pile of regret shouldn't have been so debilitating.

A quick glance at her phone told her it was already nearly two in the morning. With a sigh, she contemplated her options… and found herself slipping out of the bed. Her eyes, sore from crying, eventually adjusted, allowing her to find the door handle and step out into the quiet hallway. Damian's door wasn't closed for once; she could barely see anything past it being propped halfway open, but that didn't stop her from poking her head in.

The moonlight flowing in from between the window curtains illuminated part of the still figure beneath the sheets. It looked like he was on his side, facing the doorway. But he didn't move nor did he say anything when she called his name quietly, once and then twice. Biting the inside of her cheek in hesitation, Jess crept further into the room until she reached his side. She bent down to her knees and reached out to him, trying to wake him again.

"Dam—"

Something stopped her hand so quickly that even her surprise was delayed. Her brain was still in the middle of comprehending what was touching her when the lamp flickered on, revealing a pair of alert, green eyes. Jess's thought process went through the details slowly: his fingers were closed around her wrist, and he was propped up on his other arm, dark hair in disarray. Like her, Damian was squinting a little at the sudden light, blinking at her in confusion with wrinkled brows.

"Jessica, what are you doing?"

Her gaze snapped to meet his eyes at his voice. Though it was soft and thick with sleep, it still held that characteristic, stern tone of his. (Even half-asleep, Damian Wayne never failed to be so _Damian_.)

"What are you doing?" he asked again.

"Uh…"

She didn't know why it was proving difficult to hold eye contact. Was it because it felt like the green irises were seeing right through her?

"I... I, um..." Her throat was tight all of a sudden, and her eyes were stinging.

"Is something wrong?"

A tear slipped, and she used her fingers to brush it away, suddenly embarrassed. Heat was flushing her cheeks as she stammered, "S-sorry, I just... I d-don't want to be alone."

Something shifted in his gaze and the wrinkles between his brows softened, but he didn't speak. In fact, he seemed to contemplate for a moment so long that she was almost about to apologize. _Maybe I should leave him—_

Damian released her wrist then and began shifting away from her. His eyes watched her patiently when he was positioned at the other side of the bed. Not giving it a second thought, she got up from the floor, eyes still welling with tears, and climbed under the cover beside him. Her hand found the lamp to turn it off, flooding them in darkness. She spent a few moments getting comfortable, noting how much nicer the mattress felt compared to the one she was used to in the guest room. And considering this was where he'd been laying, the sheets were warm, immediately easing her nerves.

"Good night, Dami," she said quietly through the sniffles.

"Good night."

It sounded like he was facing her, making her unable to keep from searching the blackness for a familiar outline. A small part of her also suspected it was more than just the warmth of this spot in his bed. She already felt better with his presence so near, knowing he was there, even if they were doing nothing but lying quietly and on the edge of sleep. Though this was the first time they'd done this, there wasn't anything weird or strange about it… not to her at least. For Jess, it was hardly any different from sitting against the pillows on top of the thick comforter like they did often. She knew coming here and looking for his company had been a good idea because it was turning out exactly as she'd hoped when the thought had crossed her mind in the guest room: her eyelids were growing heavy with tiredness as she sighed, not a trace of that burdensome sorrow and self-pity around.

She knew because as she laid there, sleep slithering into the corners of her mind, she wasn't crying anymore.

* * *

By Thanksgiving, Jess seemed to show signs of resuming normalcy. She still appeared distracted at times and wasn't as eager to participate in their usual activities they did together, yet Damian could tell her spirit was improving. Particularly after staying over for several days, he saw that she was getting better sleep, focusing more on her schoolwork, and never minded his company nor his family's. His best guess was that she welcomed the distractions outside of school, hockey practice, and being with Misty.

Because otherwise, she would be alone and with her thoughts, ones that most likely were unpleasant and bitter.

Still, his friend was uncharacteristically quieter than usual. He'd spent his time biting his tongue, refraining from pushing her to talk about what had happened and to let him in. If there was anything he could be sure of at the very least, it was that she had no desire to discuss that night quite yet; what he would do for her in the meantime was simply be there, offer her company, distraction, a place to stay. They would continue spending time together when she felt up to it, as if there was nothing wrong.

Except Damian could only do it for so long. After a pleasant dinner with the family and meeting with his father briefly in the cave, he went to find the brunette. She was in the guest room, standing at the window with her back towards him.

He said her name, prompting her to look back and give him the smallest of smiles. After moving to stand beside her, he looked over and took in the thoughtful, intense way with which she gazed past the glass. It was dark and quite cold already, considering winter was quickly approaching.

"You know what has stuck with me most?" she suddenly asked.

Her voice was soft, disrupting the still quiet that had accompanied them. Damian waited and watched as she maintained her distracted gaze out the window.

"When he said all those things to me… When he said nobody would w-want me, that if it wasn't f-for—"

She paused to swallow and catch her unsteady breath before turning to him. Slowly, one hand reached to take his elbow while the other grasped his jaw, and her touch had him knitting his brows with piqued interest. He almost didn't notice that she was trembling slightly despite her gentleness.

"I felt it," Jess whispered as she looked up at him. "I felt my power, b-but I c-couldn't do anything. I couldn't move or speak. I just… _froze_."

It might have been shame or fear in her glistening eyes, perhaps both. Damian could almost see the memory she was reliving as she held him in place, doing her best to remain composed. Understanding then washed over him in a brutal wave, first as realization and then bitterness.

He'd touched her like this. His hands had been on her in this way, keeping her in his grip, exerting dominance and control that had rendered her speechless — even frightened to the point that her metahuman ability had emerged in defense.

Anger, slow and burning, built in his limbs, tightening his jaw that was still between her fingers. It took a considerable amount of discipline to not stop her when she released him, hands falling to her sides.

"I was so... stunned. He was always sort of handsy with me — in a good way — but… It didn't make sense."

Her eyes fell to the floor. "I guess I should've seen it coming," she added, her words nearly inaudible.

He wanted to ask if that had been the first time Kade had treated her in that way, but something else crossed his mind. Crossing his arms, Damian asked, "What do you mean?" She still wasn't looking at him, gaze turned beyond the window again. "Jessica. What does that mean?"

Her sharp exhale punctuated the air between them. "That wasn't the first time he's—he's talked to me like that before," Jess admitted softly.

The pounding of his heart intensified at this news. She was hesitating while glancing at him now, quickly averting her gaze at the look on his face. The former assassin could only assume his expression was showing only a fraction of the stirring emotions within him. _This has happened before_, a voice affirmed at the back of his mind.

Echoes of Kade's taunting words hit him, prodding at the frustration Damian was attempting to control.

"What else did he say to you?" He didn't mean to, but his tone was sharp, nearly demanding.

"It doesn't matter, Damian," she tried with a shake of her head.

"I want to know what other harmful things he has said to you."

Her hazel eyes examined him, a hint of misery and dejection in them. After a long pause, Jess finally explained, "We got into an argument a few days before tryouts. He wanted to get a supply of stardust instead of being there like he'd—like I asked him to.

"I always noticed he seemed to prioritize it over our relationship. He refused to consider that he might need help, you know, like therapy or something. Rehab even. When I suggested it, he pointed out that I'm not much better than him and that I'm…"

She was growing emotional again as Damian waited as patiently as he could for her to continue.

Wiping at the wetness at the corner of her eye, she finished, "He said I'm just as fucked up as he is, maybe more. And he knows I still feel horrible for the things I did after running away, how… how after all this time, I still don't believe I d-deserve to b-be—"

A sob interrupted her, making Jess press the heels of her hands to her eyes. Ache shot through him beneath the irritation, yet it wasn't enough to do away with the animosity he was feeling towards the blond once again. It was undoubtedly cruel, what he'd had the audacity to say to her.

If only Damian had been there.

"And you failed to tell me?"

Jess met his gaze with shining eyes. "What would I have told you, Dami?"

He nearly balked. "That he was treating you like—"

"I thought it was okay," she cut in, voice soft yet persistent. "I thought that was how things were supposed to be, especially when he… when he was so willing to make up for it."

"And now?"

She paused, appearing to search his face. "And now I know I was just naive and stupid the whole time," she said softly.

Something was tugging at his heart as he watched her tuck hair behind her ear and face the window once more. His friend had been convinced her relationship with the blond was the way it was meant to be, blind to his mistreatment.

"It always feels like the world is against me," Jess seemed to mutter to herself, "like it still wants to punish me for everything I've done."

"Or perhaps you simply fell for the wrong person."

He hadn't been consciously planning to say such a thing. Attempting to regain himself, Damian watched her turn to him — was she going to be upset? Confused?

Yet she only appeared thoughtful as she slowly breathed in and out — as if she were coming to terms with the fact that she had made a mistake. "Yeah… Maybe I'm simply just an idiot."

Perhaps he should have disagreed with her, but he knew that it would have been a lie. He did think she'd been a bit of a fool, getting mixed up with Kade and in other disastrous circumstances that had occurred this year, yet she had to know it as well. As short-sighted and asinine as Jess could be, at the very least she learned her lesson afterwards.

_But will she learn after this immense lapse in judgment this time around?_

"I just wish… I was hoping I'd get through to him and he'd listen to me."

"People like him don't change unless they want to."

"Sure, but…" Jess shook her head and crossed her arms. "I might've been the only person who had a chance. His parents are rarely ever around, his brother is out-of-state, his friends… They don't see anything wrong with stardust and just enable him."

Irritation stung him as he glared down at her. "Jessica, why are you rationalizing what he did to you? Stardust hardly excuses his behavior and neither do his other, interpersonal issues."

"I'm just saying that he's had a lot happen in his life—"

"Then which part of his life justifies it?"

Her mouth was half-open as her wide eyes stared at him. Clearly, his harsh question had put her off, just as he'd expected. Only a little satisfied, Damian went on, keeping his voice carefully even.

"Do absent parents justify him saying nobody will want you? Does a distant brother justify putting his hands on you in blatant disrespect? Are simpleton friends and a reprehensible addiction to a street drug the right reasons to say he only kept you around because you…"

He couldn't even finish the thought. Not only was it too maddening to think about and painful to say aloud, but he saw the tears welling in her eyes, too. Even if the point was being driven home, his words were bringing up memories and feelings that he didn't want to force her to relive.

Forcing himself to take a steady breath, Damian watched as she tore her gaze away, chin trembling.

"Have you and Misty talked about me behind my back?" she suddenly asked in a shaky voice.

"No. Why?"

She appeared hesitant as if she didn't want to answer, still not looking at him. "She said pretty much the same thing to me the other day… about how I was trying to see something, believe in something that wasn't really there."

Well, thankfully it wasn't only him trying to talk some sense into Jess.

"What do you think then, if both of your friends express the same sentiment without having spoken to one another about it before?"

Jess dabbed at her eyes before exhaling sharply and turning to him. Her hazel irises were swimming in tears despite the smile she attempted to give. "I think… I want to stop talking about another big mistake I made."

Before he could say anything, she made her way to the bed and sat on the edge. He followed her, sitting beside her and seeing that his friend might've desperately needed a distraction. As much as he wanted to pursue the subject and make sure she understood that her relationship with the blond was nothing that she deserved… Damian knew that doing so was approaching dangerous territory.

"I spoke with Father after dinner. He informed me that Tim's commencement takes place two weeks from now, and he has made plans for us to visit for several days. I told him my presence is unnecessary when the rest of our family will be here for Christmas, so—"

"You're not going?"

She was looking over to him, brows furrowed in confusion.

"No, I'm not because no one would be here otherwise," Damian told her in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she should've known the answer. "Alfred, my father, and Selina are going."

"... And?"

Hazel eyes flickered between his, oblivious to what should have been evident to her. But then understanding fell over her face, and Jess shook her head. "Wait, you want to stay because I'm here?"

"Of course."

"Damian." She laughed lightly, tilting her head as she gazed up at him. The tears were no longer in her eyes though they were still slightly rimmed with redness. "I wasn't going to stay for _that _long. I was gonna go back to sleeping in my dorm this weekend."

He wanted to ask, yet he could already see that she would argue with him. In spite of how much he might insist and even demand that she stay as long as she needed, the young man would've been naive to think she wouldn't blink an eye at his assumption. She would likely mention not wanting to be a burden, spending so much time at the manor, and he would deny that she was even close to a bother.

"I'm fine, Dami," she'd say, explaining that it was wholly unnecessary for him to skip his brother's graduation just to stay home for her.

Yet it was in Damian's nature to disagree and press on. Even as she regarded him with gentle eyes, he read the leftover sadness in them, the lingering suffering that Kade had caused her.

"I know you're going to insist that I accompany my family out of town," he began sternly, "but I assure you that my being there is redundant; no one will miss me. It won't matter since I'll be seeing him nearly a week later."

Jess rolled her eyes. "Damian, it might be 'redundant' to _you_, but that won't be the case for your family, for Tim. He's _graduating_ from college. That's a big deal."

She reached out then, clasping his hand and sending warmth under his skin. "You should be there. I'm sure it'll mean a lot to him."

"I've told you about him, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. But just because you've butted heads since you were younger doesn't mean he won't care if you bail."

"I would say 'butting heads' is a bit of an understatement."

"Whatever. My point still stands."

"Jessica. You and I can have the manor to ourselves for three days—"

"As much as I love it here and the thought of a three-day sleepover without adults, I'm not going to be the reason you miss out." The firmness in her tone matched her eyes, prompting Damian to pause in his persuasion. "I get that you want to be around for me, but I don't need you to babysit me, okay?"

At that, his gaze narrowed. "I never said you required babysitting."

She raised a brow before answering, "You didn't have to."

He forced himself to take a moment again, turning her words over in his mind as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She truly thought he believed she needed babysitting? Well, perhaps at another time, Damian would nearly agree, say, if she were wandering around at night while inebriated or something like it.

"Babysitting" wasn't the correct term though. Jess merely needed looking after, to be provided comfort and companionship. As much as he hoped she would make better choices in young men (and overall), he knew she wasn't _hopeless_ and incapable of righting her wrongs. She'd looked for love in the wrong place, in the horribly wrong person, and it seemed that she already knew that. It didn't mean she wasn't allowed to hurt and recover as she should.

His friend didn't require a babysitter — she needed someone to simply care for her.

_In a way that Kade never did and never could._

After taking a deep breath, Damian met her gaze. "I don't wish to babysit you, Jessica. I want..."

Something seemed to shape in his mouth, wanting to form words that he hadn't been planning on saying. Still, he remained composed and went on.

"... to be around for you."

Jess appeared to be searching his eyes, and he vaguely wondered if she saw anything of interest. "You know, it shouldn't take Thanksgiving for me to say this, but… I'm really grateful for everything you've done for me. From becoming my friend to the whole stardust fiasco… to this. I don't think I'll manage to thank you enough."

Before he could say anything, he caught the slight grin she gave him just as she leaned over and hugged him. Damian could do nothing but return the gesture, resting his cheek on the top of her head a moment later.

"I'm really glad to have you around," she suddenly said, her voice soft and slightly muffled by the embrace.

_The feeling is mutual._

* * *

"Could you get the tuna salad sandwich? And ask—"

"Ask for whole grain wheat and not toasted with the crusts cut off and a pickle on the side."

Jess fell silent, staring at Damian as he went on typing in the restaurant's number. He seemed oblivious to her surprise until he put the phone to his ear and glanced at her, reading the expression on her face.

Brow raising, he asked, "What?"

"I…" She shook her head and managed to say, "Nothing. Guess I'm just kind of surprised you knew I was going to say that."

They'd spent a lot of time in the manor kitchen and sometimes eating out, but Jess couldn't really recall having mentioned her specific preference when it came to sandwiches and bread. It wasn't something she really just _told_ people unless necessary… Maybe she'd said something to Alfred when he'd whipped up food for them at one point?

"Jessica. We had sandwiches that first day we went to the diner. You asked for whole grain, and then you timidly asked if they'd be willing to remove the crust."

The way he said it was so straightforward and matter-of-fact as if it was something she should have known. And he was right; now that she thought about it, she _had_ made her order in hopes the waitress wouldn't have a problem with it. She recalled wondering if Damian would say something about her strange, picky request, but he hadn't.

After he finished placing the order and hung up, Jess spoke up. "That's nice that you remembered. Even I had no idea what you were talking about for a second."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I considered it odd at the time, but I've found that you do have strange preferences and habits."

Curiosity had her raising her brows and crossing her arms. "Really? Like what?"

Part of her assumed she'd be surprised because she hadn't noticed them herself, so she was definitely eager to know what he'd picked up.

"Well, other than a dislike for bread crust, you can't stand black coffee and require copious amounts of cream and sugar. And more specifically, you prefer french vanilla creamer to hazelnut — which is why Alfred started stocking more of that in the fridge.

"Moreover, it has come to my attention that you aren't a fan of being the center of attention for whatever reason. Perhaps performing in the rink is different, but you became antsy and shy when Misty introduced you to a group of friends. Even when you were opening your birthday gifts at her house with only four of us present, you were nervous.

"Speaking of that, I can easily tell when you are anxious by how often you play with that ring on your finger. It's one thing to see it on your face yet another when you are constantly spinning it as if it helps you think."

Whoa.

At this point, not many things surprised her when it came to Damian and what he was good at. But this attention to detail… it was incredible. Even Jess knew she wouldn't have been able to name those things about herself, so hearing them from him was nothing short of a pleasant surprise and, in a way, kind of cool. He'd listed it all so casually as if reciting lines from a play or stating random facts that he just happened to know about. Apparently, Damian knew her well — she was almost confident enough to say he knew her better than she knew herself.

For some reason, Kade crossed her mind and she almost immediately knew he wouldn't have been able to do the same thing.

_Maybe because he didn't even really know you at all._

"I… didn't realize you paid so much attention," Jess said with a meager smile.

Damian was staring right at her, his eyes seemingly full of reflection and thoughts she wished she could read.

Suddenly breaking eye contact, she busied herself with shifting her textbooks and notes around on her desk. "I bet I could name stuff about you, too."

"Oh?" Though the expression on his face was blank and awaiting, she saw the hint of that signature Damian Wayne smugness in there.

"Oh, yeah." Jess joined him where he sat at the edge of her bed and turned to look at him. "You're a perfectionist when it comes to your cooking except for the few times you actually let me help you… but it seems like that applies to other things — remember that time you randomly fixed my tie when I thought it looked completely fine?

"Mm… sometimes you get quiet, _real_ quiet. Not that there's anything wrong with us sitting in silence, like when I'm doing homework and you're doing your own thing, but I look over and your head seems to be somewhere else completely. Know how I can tell?"

She crossed the room to reach out to him. Her pointer finger found its way to the middle of his brows, where the few lines in his skin were exactly what she was referring to. Grinning at him a little, Jess took her hand back and saw the intrigued look he was giving her.

"When we first met, I couldn't really figure you out 'cause you were just so broody and seemed to have the same facial expression all the time," she continued. "I'm still learning about your mysterious ways, but I feel like I'm getting there."

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt. Thank goodness you've realized I'm capable of more than one facial expression."

"Right now, my guess is at four or five. But give me more time, and I'll read you like one of the books in your library."

"Half of them are written in old English or in languages you don't speak, so your metaphor is erroneous."

"And that!" Jess let out a laugh, her eyes widening with entertainment. "The way you correct me or counter the things I say… You do it all the damn time."

He raised a brow, examining her change in expression. "Is it a problem?"

"No, Dami," she reassured him with a knowing smile and a gentle push at his shoulder (which normally would've earned a scowl but didn't, for some reason). "In fact, our banter is _fun_. It's probably one of my favorite things about us."

It was like she was learning about their friendship from a whole new perspective. Never before had Jess taken the time to figure out little details and behaviors of people she knew let alone given thought to the best parts of a relationship with someone. But she didn't have to think so hard to put a finger on things she'd noticed about him or name something about their interactions that she always enjoyed; the specifics had come to her easily. Maybe that spoke to how much time they'd spent together, how attentive they were, or merely a simple truth that explained it all: the two of them were just that close.

Damian's faint smile was still there, his emerald gaze holding steady with hers. "I agree," he said simply.

Glancing down at the only ring she wore, Jess pulled it off and handed it to him. Aware of her friend examining her first and then the ring next, she explained, "It's actually my mom's… or, well, used to be hers. It's one of the few things of theirs that I decided to keep after the accident. Besides her wedding ring, this is the one she always wore. I think my dad bought it for her a while back. I have no idea if it's real silver or—"

"White gold," Damian said immediately as he turned the glittering ring over in his fingers. "Eighteen-karat at the very least."

"Oh. Well, that's nice to know."

"You're missing a diamond."

"Huh?"

He showed her the spot in the band where a tiny hole disrupted the single line of diamonds that had decorated the entire band.

Frowning, Jess took it from him to further examine it. "This must've happened somewhat recently. I know they were all there last time I stared at this thing." She shrugged and slipped it back on. "Guess I shouldn't fiddle with it so often."

Eyes on the ring, Damian nodded towards it and said, "Alfred can take it to a reputable jeweler in the city who can replace the missing diamond."

"Oh… No, I'm not worried about it. It's really small and unnoticeable—"

"I noticed it."

She paused and then rolled her eyes at the look on his face. "Right, well, of course _you_ noticed it. You were also looking right at it. If it's on my finger, no one will notice it otherwise. Not even me."

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks for it to be done."

"And it'll cost, what, a couple hundred bucks?"

"Judging by the size and quality… that seems accurate. And I will pay for it, of course," Damian told her with a raised brow.

Shaking her head, Jess answered, "Thank you, but no, thank you."

"As you wish."

Suspicion rising in her, she eyed her friend who was glancing at his watch and standing to head for the door. That had been such a quick surrender on his part…

"Damian."

"Hm?"

"Don't be getting any ideas, okay?"

"Alright."

"If I wake up one day with a new diamond in this ring, I swear..."

"You swear what?"

"... I'll think of something."

* * *

**Note:** this chapter was a lot fluffier than I'd intended, but i suppose it's a nice (though more boring) breather from the last one maybe? xD figured it would be good to focus on how Damian and Jess would come back from that confrontation with Kade and explore how they're dealing with it. But more action and drama are coming as soon as the next update, so there is no shortage in excitement around here :)

thanks for all your reviews! wanted to say to anoyak111 that Helena could potentially have an appearance, but we will have to see since I do have plans for incorporating other Batfam members pretty soon as well. It's not impossible though, maybe she'll at least drop by to say hi ;)

evabrennan, sometimes i think you have access to my drafts because when you mention something, i'm already in the middle of it lol! (when you left your review, i was in the middle of writing bruce's POV at the beginning of this chapter xD) perhaps you simply just have a finger on the pulse of my writing, which i won't complain about at all haha. But yes, there's still so much to cover with both Damian and Jess, and as long as writer's block doesn't pay me a visit, we're gonna start diving right into it over the next few chapters now that Kade has been shoved—er, punched out of the way

Until next time! Xx

p.s. Just something random to share, but there is a very talented artist on Instagram and Etsy by the username **02png** who has done some amazing artwork centering around DC characters, mostly the Batboys. if you want to see their incredible stuff, i highly recommend you check them out! Call me biased, but i'm particularly obsessed with the way they've drawn Damian and Jason.


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